#(eventually it grows out and goes back to being brown)

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader

From the request HERE

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: Only a few more days are left of his short leave and Simon is determined to make every last second count with you. What better way to start the day than buried in between your thighs, helping you wake up by the feeling of his tongue alone and then overstimming you.

Word Count: 4.6 k

Warnings:

The sun has just started to peek itself through the small gap in the blinds covering the window, illuminating the bedroom in enough light that it causes Simon to stir awake with the first signs of life as those brown eyes flutter a few times from the brightness until he comes back into consciousness. Rubbing his bare chest and scratching at the patch of hair on his lower abdomen as he rolls over onto his side to face the other body lying peacefully asleep, his breath hitches at the sight that he’s greeted with. 

Your long eyelashes rest delicately against your cheek, your chest slowly rising and falling with your deep, calm inhales and exhales as you still drift mindlessly through your dreams. The covers that are pulled up to your breasts conceal your naked form lying just underneath and the way they cling to your form allows him to follow the contours of your body through the fabric. You are a fucking picture of peaceful beauty.

Damn, you are so perfect he cannot look away and suddenly there is a tenting forming beneath the covers still wrapped around his lower half. It’s not his fault; how is he supposed to keep himself restrained when this is what he gets to wake up to? An ache situates itself in his chest, a gnawing blooming in his stomach to caress all that flawlessness. It is a hunger that only grows stronger the more he gazes until he is compelled to get up.

There are only so many days left in the short bit of leave he has and he wants to make every single second count. That’s why you both find yourselves naked even as you sleep; he needs his body to memorize the way yours feels against his and he needs to fuck you whenever the moment strikes, so there is no sense in wasting any amount of time with superfluous things when you both are about to go months without seeing one another. And right now that is working to his benefit as he wants to shower you with some extra attention to start the day.

Just a taste won’t hurt, he thinks, knowing full well that once he starts there is no stopping. Just till she wakes up.

He moves out from the warmth at your side as carefully as he can to ensure that his movements don’t wake you, not yet. The blanket slips from his unclothed hips as he shifts up onto his knees and positions himself over you, his hands atop the mattress on either side of your body so that he can push himself down your sleeping form while his lips take advantage of all that uncovered skin. Feathery light kisses trail down across the supple flesh of your breasts and over your soft torso as his hot mouth presses delicately into you in adoration for all this beauty that he gets to have all to himself. 

All these curves, all this smooth, voluptuous skin always ready for him to caress, it is enough to drive him insane.

Muscles ripple through his bare back as he continues down the line of your body, inching slowly so as not to miss any patch of flesh. He is careful not to drag his face too harshly as he goes along so that the stubble on his jaw won’t prick your skin, opting instead to pick his head up off you as he moves only to lower it back down at the next spot ready to receive his attention. Your skin is heated from being snuggled down in the bed and it invites him to nuzzle his nose into it as he goes.

Simon eventually reaches the edge of the covers that have fallen around your waist from him getting up and he has to lift them out of the way to reveal the rest of your gorgeous body to his yearning mouth. Rolling them back at a leisurely pace, he makes sure not to reveal too much so the cooler air outside of the blanket doesn’t have a chance to make you uncomfortable until the warmth from his lips can keep the skin flushed. Over the curve of your waist, your stomach, your hip bones he places his steamy kisses. It is when he gets to your belly button that the anticipation finally hits him that he is getting closer to his favorite spot: that beautiful place in between your thighs.

The mattress creaks under his weight as he arrives at the foot of the bed so that he can remove the covers and push them off your legs. He can feel his cock throb as he pulls them back and finds what he’s always pining for. A heavy exhale falls from his lips and his mouth begins to salivate as he catches that first glimpse of your legs laying splayed open and that sweet little pussy just there waiting for his mouth to embrace.  

Simon can’t ever get his fill of it and God, he needs it so bad now that he sees it again. For a split second he thinks about making his movements more pronounced to wake you up, but a sudden intrusion of an idea makes him stop. You had mentioned recently that you were wanting to try something, to be woken up with his tongue lapping against your clit. What kind of man would he be if he never indulged his sweetheart’s fantasies? Today seems as good a day as any to make your dreams come true, not that he ever needs an excuse to get lost in all that goodness between your legs. 

There are times when he is so ravenous for your cunt that nothing else will even come close to satisfying that beast inside him, but today he doesn’t want it to be about the harsh and rough… well, not yet; this morning is all about making you so delirious and overstimulated off his tongue only that you won’t be able to get out of bed at all and he can keep you all to himself for the entire fucking day.  

Quietly Simon slides himself off the edge of the bed to situate himself kneeling on the carpet so that he can lay his torso on the mattress, giving him a better angle to be able to move in. Your legs are positioned open in such a way that from here he can easily slip his face up in between them and right against you, but he is in no rush. Ever so gently he pins more tender kisses along the soft, supple muscles of your inner thighs, his lips embracing your flesh with silent promises that everything he is fixing to do he is going to do for you only because you deserve it. 

His pretty girl, his sweet thing, so perfectly made as if just for him; fuck, do you make him want to worship the ground you walk on. 

His eyes catch the goosebumps forming under his breath along your body wherever he places his warm mouth and he cannot help but smile at your automatic physical reaction to him. Even in sleep you know his touch and respond to it. 

“My sweet girl,” he whispers in his husky morning voice into your calf as he continues up the length of your leg. “You’re so fuckin’ perfect, so goddamn beautiful. I’m one lucky bastard and I ain’t eva’ gonna forget it.” 

He continues on without hesitation as he slides all the way up until he is right at the threshold of those delicate petals that he wants his mouth on. A moist heat meets his lips as he leans in and places kiss after kiss to them; never has something felt so perfect pressed against him. If Simon could live between your legs permanently, they would never fucking find the man again. 

One of those beefy arms he slips under your leg to prop it up and move it even further out of his way so that he has as much space to work as he needs. Restraining himself from going in fast and heavy isn’t easy, but what he wants is to keep his movements relaxed, not crazed and insatiable like on occasions when he’s had a bad day and just needs to smother against you. No, you deserve the full princess treatment from him and that is what you are going to get. Taking the opposite hand not around your thigh, he uses two of those long, thick fingers to delicately spread apart the lips to get at all that lays in waiting inside.

“There she is,” Simon sighs quietly as he immediately spots that sweet little bean that he desperately wants to suck until it’s swollen and throbbing and then even more until you are coming on his face.

He doesn’t go right for the kill first, instead building the anticipation of your body as he kisses that crease between your petals and your thigh, using his balmy breath to stimulate that sensitive area as he switches sides a few times until he feels you twitch and only then does he continue. Gathering up all the spit in his mouth he collects it on his tongue and presses it through your petals to coat the area until your body can take over. As he pushes that thick muscle into you he catches the sound of a quick rush of air escaping through your nose, followed by a sleepy sigh as you stir.

His movements are tender and intimate, circling the nub with the tip of his tongue and slowly using the pad to make love to your clit. You sigh again heavier this time as you begin to squirm in your sleep the more he strokes, your hips rocking faintly over his face as the sound of your fingers clawing at the fitted sheet is caught. Just a little more stimulation and you aren’t going to be able to stay asleep much longer.

Your quiet, breathy moans become more than whispers now and those amber eyes dart back up to your face over the curves of your body, desperate to watch the subtle changes that ripple across your features as he works at bringing you into consciousness by your pleasure alone so he can witness the very moment you wake. 

There is a brightness on the other side of your shut eyelids as you slowly slip back into the realm of consciousness, the sound of your own muted groans filling the quiet around you along with something else you cannot quite distinguish and it feels like you are still dreaming. Then it hits you: there is a familiar glowing, warm sensation in the pit of your stomach that amplifies as you continue waking. Your eyes flutter open as the sensation is so intense that you can’t ignore it anymore and as you look around to gather your bearings you notice that there is a blonde-haired head rocking undisturbed between your thighs.

As you focus you realize that he is staring right back at you and the corners of his eyes crinkle as you feel his lips upturn against your petals; you know he’s pleased with himself at what he is doing. He doesn’t stop or try to speak, he only tightens his grip around your thigh that he has propped on his shoulder and continues to service your clit with his tongue while he presses his face in tighter so that the pressure adds to the stimulation. 

The sensation is damn near overwhelming now and you realize that he must have been at this for a bit as it feels like you are about to come. Your head falls back heavy against the pillow as your eyes close to allow the feeling to wash over you completely, needy moans unable to be kept under control fill what was once the silence in the room. 

That’s when you feel his lips lock around your clit before he sucks down on it and using the very tip of his tongue he twirls around the bud while his fingers come back into play. He finds your entrances and gently shoves his middle finger inside to rub across your G spot and instantly you can feel your calm shatter into pieces. A euphoric spasm shoots through your entire body, making your limbs start to tingle, and you know by the feeling that it is only a few more moments that remain until you are going to spill.

“Simon, shit…gonna come,” you whimper his name as you grind your head into the pillow. To have so much ecstasy hit you all at once overwhelms you with its intensity and leaves you unable to function. You are about to come, that is all your half-asleep brain can process. 

With a few more strokes of that strong muscle and a few more flicks of his finger resting inside you, the pressure building at the base of your spine and the warmth gathering in the pit of your stomach reach their threshold and you spill over the edge with a strong jolt that causes your back to arch up off the bed as you cry out. The force of it makes you buck against Simon’s face, but he is ready and digs his fingers in full force until his hold on you is so secure that he isn’t going anywhere as you ride out wave after wave of your orgasm that crashes over you like a tidal wave. 

Fuck, what a way to start the day.

In your sleepy, mind-numbed state, you forget just how voracious your military man can be and mistakenly believe that at any moment he is going to emerge from your thighs and come lay beside you…except instead of letting you go, he doesn’t stop. Simon keeps at it, only slowing his pace down to almost nothing, but not pulling away from you. Instead he sneaks quick breaths by tilting his head to the side so that it exposes his nose to the air before he buries it right back in against your now dripping slit. 

“Simon, baby,” you call groggily down to him as you try to wriggle free of his grasp; it’s the only thing you can do to persuade him to release you, “you can take it easy. It’s still early, we got all day.”

Just a second, you need to take a break only so long as to catch your breath.

Simon hears your pleas, but it falls on deaf ears as he does not even budge. His plan is already set in motion and you are not nearly exhausted enough for him to even think about stopping yet. This day needs to stay in the forefront of your mind for at least a few weeks after he leaves and be the specific memory that fuels your desperate masterbating while he’s gone and not able to fix the ache.

“Shh…” he hushes mutedly against you. “I only have a few more days with ya and I wanna give ya my full attention. And this mornin’ I wanna take care of ya. I’m gonna take care a ya so fuckin’ good, baby.”

Is there a way to say no to that? If there is, you can’t find it and don’t want to. Even through the overly sensitive nature of your body right now, you don’t want to deny him a thing, not when he says it like that. And to be honest now that he has you at his mercy, his tongue still stroking along the line of your slit before coming back up to circle the nub, you are starting to want it again too.

Tiny beads of sweat like mist cover over your body as the feeling of Simon’s arms slithering up your torso are felt running through the perspiration, greedy hands searching for your chest without being able to see. Grabbing onto as much of your supple breasts as can fit in his large palms he pinches the nipples and rolls them between his thumb and forefinger to make your heated body burn until you whine out loud as they stiffen at his touch.

“Shi-i-it, Simon,” you say, your speech starting to slur together as the mindless haze floods your thoughts from the activity at your chest that radiates in waves of arousal you can feel throb in your clit. Keep sucking, keep playing with my tits, don’t stop, your mind screams.    

Everything outside this is like a distant memory; your body is floating and your mind drunk as you exist only in a world made of pure ecstasy. Your hand reaches down around his arms across your torso to the back of his head where you can press and push him in tighter to your pussy and you hear Simon hum a deep, contented sigh at the feeling of you forcing him to suffocate even more. 

Tha’s it baby, drown me, he thinks to himself as some feral part of his brain gets activated. 

There is movement in the mattress that shakes your body up and down as Simon begins to grind his aching cock against it, trying to use the friction to relieve some of the pressure in the swollen tip. Hearing your beautiful music while being smothered in your pussy is like a religious experience that is akin to having heaven on earth. 

Your glistening thighs are vibrating around Simon's ears and as each flick of his tongue finds its mark you are brought closer to climaxing again as you spiral into sensory overload. Over and over he engages with your core, his mouth filling with your sweet juices, the tip of his tongue playing in such a way it feels like he is signing his name on his favorite part of you. 

His name is falling from your lips in pathetic whines now as the only word you can recall in the fog of euphoria that you are trapped in. Every inch of you is wrapped in a cold sweat that feels like you’re about to burst into flames, the muscles in your belly contract rigid as the pressure in your spine increases with every stroke.  

Right there, it’s right there. You have to come to release the tension.

And that tightness finally snaps just like that and you come again, this time harsher and more intense than the last. Your thighs lock tightly around Simon’s head as you writhe wildly, your body struggling to take all that immense euphoria that fills up every inch of you.

Lengthy seconds pass as you come back down from that high while the sounds of your whimpers act as a gauge to the man crushed in your leg lock how long he will have left to stay suffocating. Once you settle back down again into the pillows and release his head from your hold does he actually emerge fully to sit up for the first time since he went down. 

Twice is enough, right? For anyone else it would be, but for Simon you know the man is still craving more. He wipes away the accumulation of cum and spit glinting in the morning light off the hairs on his chin onto the sheet he has picked up, a contented grin filling his beautifully stark features as he sets the damp fabric aside and stalks back up onto the bed like a lion ready to pounce. Stray kisses embrace your lower abdomen as he sets himself into position kneeling between your legs. 

“Ya ready for more a’ me, baby?” he asks, though not waiting long enough for an answer before he is gripping into your hips to pull your body down over him until your butt rests on top of his thighs. 

You shake your head back and forth. “Too much, t-too much,” you plead, but that isn’t going to do anything and you know it. He is ravenous.

Simon licks his raw, swollen lips. “But you’re takin’ it all so fuckin’ well. Your legs aren’t even shakin’ that bad yet, sweetheart. Said I was gonna take care ‘a ya good and I think that means ya need more.”

You swallow hard, your throat suddenly dry at the thought of going again. “I can’t…I can’t…” you continue, the back of your head digging into the pillow. His fingers run along your inner thighs to send shockwaves of overwhelming ecstasy shooting up your spine to the top of your head and your mouth struggles to form the rest of the words. “Just give me a minute. Please, Si. I don’t think I can go anymore.” 

“Yes ya can, beautiful; you’re not done,” he grunts with a sharp inhale as he takes your legs in his grip and lifts them up so that he can rest your calves over his shoulders in a way that will strap you to him. Looking down at you through the gap in your legs he flashes a toothy, mischievous grin that has you shivering with anticipation as the heat from his breath rolls over your stomach. “Come on, sweetheart, I know ya ‘ave a little more in ya. You’re gonna take it all for me, yeah? I want ya ta fuckin’ soak me.”

You’re screwed.

Nodding your head in agreement, he immediately leans his face in until his nose can nuzzle against that overstimulated button and your back harshly arches right off the mattress, hands gripping with iron strength into the bundled up sheets you’ve gathered in your fists. Those long, rough fingers holding up your sides drive deeper into your hips so that you can’t slip away from his face while you buck roughly as the movements of his tongue settle back into a steady rhythm again.

So velvety soft, so warm, so moist, it makes his engorged cock throb hard and can feel it prod into your butt. He is overtaken by a desperate, burning need that floods his veins like wildfire; he wants to bury his face even deeper into you as if he is trying to fuse himself with your body. That feeling in him is unleashed in all its fury and he laps at your cunt faster and harder with each passing minute and your already weakened body is overwhelmed. 

“Fuckin’ breathe, sweet thing,” he says in a deep, desperate growl, ripping his face from within you for only long enough to speak the order, as he looks down to see the mixture of pain and pleasure ripple through your brow before he is right back in. 

Hot tears are stinging at the rims of your eyes now as your overly sensitive clit is stimulated again, collecting until they finally break over the edge to stream out from the corners and down over your cheeks. Simon stares at them glinting in crystalline drops as they catch the light from the window before they disappear and gather on the pillow behind your head and goddamn are they so beautiful they nearly stop his heart. 

This is it, this is the one that will do you in and his mission will finally be accomplished. He is pushing your body to its limit of what it can handle and you take it all so gorgeously. To see his sweet thing so out of her goddamn mind is something he hopes will be ingrained in his memory for the rest of his miserable life. 

The heels of your feet dig into the sides of his bare torso until his ribs are stinging under the pinpointed pressure. You don’t know if you have another one in you, but just as the thought burrows into your intoxicated mind you can already feel that gathering warmth in the lower part of your abdomen…except… Something is happening, that feeling of orgasmic pleasure bubbling up in your core is similar, but different. 

“Do ya want me ta stop?” he asks with his mouth full, prompted at the feeling.

You whimper pathetically through the tears spilling from the corners of your eyes; as overwhelming as it is, there is no way in hell you can let him stop now. “No,” you say pitifully as you try to push his head back down tighter against you, “don’t, don’t. Please…oh fuck, fuck!!”

“Good girl,” he growls as he dives right back in like he hasn’t already had you twice now.  

It’s too much, the pressure is overwhelmingly too intense. A deep sense of release more extreme than any orgasm you’ve ever experienced leads to a gushing sensation from between your legs and you throw your head back as you squeal loud as ever as it just keeps coming. Your body shakes and twitches as everything you have is released onto his face for the last time.

“There ya go,” he praises in between breaths as he strokes you through it, stopping once you lay limply in his grip. “Ride it out for me.”

Legs shaking, chest heaving, eyes glazed over, cheeks flushed, Simon lowers you back down from his face and notices that his lap is wet and there is a markedly large wet stain soaking into the sheet under you both now. His face is just as coated and Simon is quick to realize what has happened. 

You can barely move at this point, but still turn your face back towards him to be met with a very happy and content man gazing back at you with those fiery auburn eyes as he wipes at the moisture covering face to clean it.

“Goddamn,” he says with a grin as he emerges from the same sheet he used before, “my pretty girl gettin’ so worked up she fuckin’ squirts on my face. Ya do know how ta fuckin’ treat me right, baby.”

You’ve never experienced anything quite like it before and are surprised that you are even able to do it in the first place, but if anyone could make you do it, it would be him. For a split second you feel a little self-conscious at this new development, but the way that Simon looks at you as if you have just hung the stars makes you giggle from the combination of nerves and adrenaline and settle back down.

He crawls back up the bed and drops down exhausted, but completely satisfied beside you and once he settles he reaches out to pull you into his steamy, heated embrace, skin to skin against his chest. His hand cradles the back of your head as he simply gazes into your eyes until your breathing slows and only then does he finally go in to kiss the last part of you he has left to claim.

His lips meet yours softly, but with the entirety of his passion for you. This is his little slice of paradise that he cannot help but feel lucky to have. Out of all the shit he’s had to deal with in his life, he found you and that means something to him. That’s why things like this he will never mind doing, not for you. Not if it’s to keep you satisfied. 

“Ya know, ya make it so fuckin’ hard for me ta leave,” Simon sighs quietly against your lips as the backs of his coarse fingers caress the delicate skin of your cheek in featherlike strokes. “I gotta make it just as hard for ya. Cause I’m gonna miss ya like hell. Still got two days left; gonna make ‘em count, sweetheart.”

Oh, he will… he definitely will. He always does.

#simon ghost riley #call of duty #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #cod mw2 #ghost cod #simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley smut #simon riley smut #ghost simon riley #simon smut #simon #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost smut #ghost cod smut #ghost call of duty #cod ghost

[jello-chennie]

✧ tough guy iwaizumi hajime who ends up falling for his best friend’s cute little sister

✧ genre/tw fluff ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ (nsfw at the end ⚠︎)

✧ word count 857

all three of you grow up together, with you being two years younger than tooru. oikawa is always doting on you, treating you like a doll. despite the very little age gap, no matter how old you get, he’s always referring to you as his baby sister. oikawa spoils you rotten. one look from those big brown eyes you both share, but look a lot cuter on you for some reason, and oikawa can’t help but to give you whatever you ask for.

in the beginning, iwaizumi is almost like your other, more responsible big brother when things go wrong. you’re always trying to tag along with your older brother and his friend, which is a recipe for disaster sometimes.

when you inevitably take a spill, and bump your knees, tooru is rolling on the ground, shouting out against the heavens for forsaking you. how could the higher powers let you just fall to the ground like that?? but iwaizumi is is silently wiping off the pebbles from your knee with his little hands, blowing cool air to help assuage your pain. without a word, he carries you back home.

eventually you learn to stop tagging along so much. you can only handle so much pain and embarrassment. other than those moments, iwaizumi and you never really spend that much time together. for the rest of your childhood, you’re more acquaintances than anything else.

but at some point, after oikawa desperately begs you to join the boys volleyball team as it’s manager (“its the only time we’ll be together in high school, you wouldn’t ruthlessly deny your precious and loving and dashing and charming big brother this chance, would you???”), iwaizumi begins to notice you again. but this time, you’re a lot more grown up than you were before. seems like good looks run in the family.

but he’s not the only one that notices. in the same sense that oikawa seems to have the student body under his spell, it seems you do as well, and without even trying.

you’ve had a sheltered childhood that you mostly spent in doors, so you’re shyer than most people. and your brother enables you with his doting behaviour.

iwaizumi finds himself frequently getting jealous at the basket of love letters and confectionery that you have to empty out of your locker and lug home every night. iwaizumi finds that his hands begin to ache after a while bc he clenches them so hard whenever he sees another person confessing to you. and he waits with baited breath to see their disappointed faces as they walk away—an indication that you turned them down again in the way that you always shyly do; an indication that he might still have a chance, yet.

in an effort to put the moves on you, iwaizumi is constantly performing little acts of service for you. he goes out with you to the fountains to refill the water bottles so that you have some company, and so that you won’t have to carry anything heavy—that should be his job, after all. in the most cliche move ever, when an errant ball goes flying right in your direction, iwaizumi coolly catches it with one hand before it can bounce off of your head, making sure to ask you if you’re okay after. he stays behind to help you sweep the floors after practice, striking up a conversation with you. when oikawa stays behind to practice his spikes, iwaizumi walks alone with you home, making sure to keep you away from the side of the sidewalk that’s closest to the road. iwa also makes sure to put your back against the wall of the train while standing in front of you, keeping you safe from any wandering hands.

eventually, he even starts buying your favourite milk drink from the vending machine, and brings it to you while he visits your classroom, the place where you normally eat your lunch. he sits, and eats with you (to which oikawa complains vehemently bc “why would you just sit in a different spot than we normally do without telling me?? you left me all alone!!")

iwaizumi’s actions don’t go unnoticed. you start to fall for it.

when you two eventually start to date, oikawa is whining and complaining that you two are both stealing each other away from him (there’s also relentless teasing on oikawa’s end bc “iwa-chan, isn’t funny that you fell in love with someone that looks just like me?? are you secretly gay and actually just in love with me :3 ??”)

but what’s really the kick in the back for oikawa is the moment he runs up to his precious little sister’s room to check and see what she wants for dinner. but upon opening the door, he finds both his best friend (who, of which, he didn’t even know was over their place at the moment) on top of his “adorable baby sister who can do absolutely no wrong”; the two of them are naked from the waist down, in the throes of passion.

he falls to his knees, asking god to strike him dead, right then and there.

#drabbles #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi smut #iwaizumi fluff #haikyuu iwaizumi #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #haikyu x reader #haikyu x you #haikyu x y/n #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu smut #oikawa tooru #oikawa x reader #haikyuu oikawa #oikawa tōru #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa toru x reader #iwaizumi x oikawa little sister!reader #oikawa little sister #oikawa sister #iwaizumi x oikawa!reader

[mattslolita]

matt teaching you how to kiss (go in detailss) and he's a bit of a bitch idk but they are bffs and this leads to something more (SMUT)

under the influence - m. sturniolo

warnings ; eventual smut , kissing , virgin!reader, cocky!matt

do not interact if you're a minor!

"your body language speaks to me."

you sighed loudly and threw your phone down on your lap, throwing your head back in irritation — this gauges your best friend matt's attention, as he looks over at you with raised eyebrows.

"what's up with you?" he asks, and you roll your eyes.

"i have a date..." you mumbled, running a hand through your hair.

"yeah, and?" matt questioned once again, now setting his phone in his and facing you.

"okay if i tell you, you have to promise you won't judge me," you said sheepishly, causing matt to roll his eyes.

"it's probably not even that serious," matt assured, but an amused smile tugged at the corners of his lips, "what is it?"

you took a deep breath before sighing and turning to matt — he waited expectantly. "i...i've never kissed anyone before."

you were looking down playing with the hem of your shirt, and you heard a snort come from matt's lips, causing your head to snap up.

"you said you wouldn't judge!" you said, your cheeks rising with color.

"i know what i said, but," matt said, trying to hold back laughter, "this is a joke, right y/n?"

"you're being a dick right now, matt," you huffed, crossing your arms across your chest, "you're supposed to be my best friend."

"hey okay, i'm sorry for laughing," matt said, but the amusement was still present on his face, "i'm sorry."

"yeah, whatever," you said with an eyeroll.

you stood up and were about to leave, causing matt to sigh and grab your wrist, pulling you back down on the couch next to him, the action, causing your eyebrows to furrow. "what?"

"you've really never had your first kiss before?" matt asks again with raised eyebrows, this time the smile gone from his face.

"shocking, i know!" you rolled your eyes, throwing your hands up, "but no, never."

matt's just silent as he stares at you, causing you to tilt your head and look at him. "what is it?"

he grins just then, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek as he looks at you, causing you to clench your thighs together as your face grows hot. "i can teach you."

your eyes widen, as you weren't expecting that kind of answer from matt — you were best friends; would this be crossing the line?

"would you actually?" you asked nervously, fiddling with the hem of your shirt again.

"come on y/n, it's not that hard," matt says, this time scooting closer to you, "just follow my lead, okay?"

"okay."

matt inches even closer to you, your bodies now barely a few inches apart — his hand slowly goes up to cup your jaw as he looks you in the eyes whilst stroking your face gently.

matt takes no time before his lips connect with yours, soft and gentle — immediately butterflies swarm your stomach as you kiss him back, your mouth moving perfectly together.

matt's hands go to grip your waist as he hoists you on top of his lap, placing his hands now on either side of you. they roam up and down your sides and you let out a soft whimper to this, causing matt to smile against the kiss.

his hands then unexpectedly go down to grip your ass, causing a gasp to escape your lips as he slips his tongue inside your mouth now — you find it difficult to battle with his tongue any longer, eventually letting him do all the exploring in your mouth.

matt pushes you down against him, and you could feel his hard under you, causing your already warm cheeks to become hot at the realization — you two have definitely crossed a line now.

you grinded down on matt, which caused a groan to escape his lips as he pulled away from you momentarily, his forehead resting on yours. "don't do that."

"do what?" you ask innocently, as he stares up at you, his piercing gaze causing a wetness to form in your panties. you slowly grind down on him again, eliciting another groan from him. "you want me to stop that?"

"fuck," matt says, before picking you up and flipping you both over, so that he was now on top of you, "you're supposed to be my best friend y/n, yet you're here acting like a little slut. is that what you are? huh?"

you don't answer, which prompts matt to shake his head as his tattooed arm goes down to the waistband of your sweats, pulling on them as they snapped on your waist, causing you to gasp. you grabbed matt's arm and placed it back over where you needed him the most, pressing his palm against your clothes pussy.

"what's the matter pretty girl, did you need something?" matt smirks down at you.

"please matt, i need you," you whine out, looking up at him through your lashes.

"what do you need me to do, baby?" matt rasps, his hand going to the waistband of your sweats, again, tugging at them, "you want me to touch you?"

you hummed and nodded your head at him, but he glared down at you, snapping the waistband again and increasing the feeling in your core. "use your fucking words, pretty girl."

"touch me, matt," you breathed out.

that's all it took before matt yanked your sweats down and ran his ringed fingers over your panties, causing you to bite down on your lip as he teased you.

"you're soaked, baby," matt grinned down at you, attaching his lips to your neck and sucking a sweet spot, causing a moan to escape your lips, "all this for me?"

"fuck matt, no teasing," you whimper out, "just fuck me already."

matt smirks as he yanks your sweats off of you fully, then goes back up to reattach his lips to yours hungrily — you let his mouth explore yours as your hand goes down to plam him through his boxers.

he yanked your hand away and got up momentarily, yanking his shirt off and tossing it to the side, followed by his pants as well — you looked up at your best friend in awe, completely taken aback by realizing you got to see this side of him.

he got a condom from the dresser and tore his boxers off, his cock slapping against his stomach; the tip was already dripping with precum, causing you to gasp lowly. he then turning to look down at you, his facial expression softening. "is this okay?"

"yeah matt, it's okay," you say, your eyes roving over him as you looked back up at him through your lashes.

he put the condom on, then aligned his cock with your entrance, teasing it with his tip causing him to groan and you to whimper. "matt, please."

with one last stroke to your pussy, matt finally slides himself into you slowly, emitting a loud moan from your mouth — matt lets out a loud groan, letting you adjust to his size.

"fuckk, you are so big," you breathe out, holding onto his back, "start moving."

"are you sure?" matt asks with a slight smirk, and you narrow your eyes at him.

matt begins to thrust in and out of you, going slowly at first — you clutch onto his back, your nails digging into his back as you moan at the feeling of him inside you. you arch your back as matt groans from on top of you, his hair falling over his eyes slightly.

"fuck, such a tight pussy," matt breathes out, his thrusts speeding up, "you like me inside you like this, don't you?"

"fuck yes matty, go faster," you moan out, and he begins thrusting at an ungodly speed.

moans and the slapping of skin fill the sound of the room as matt pounds into you roughly — he grabs on of your legs and throws it over your shoulder, hitting your g spot continuously at a better angle.

"oh my gosh, please don't stop matt," you cry out, arching your back as you feel your nails scratching at his back.

"fuck y/n, you feel so fucking good," matt groans out, his thrusts hard and fast.

"i-i'm close," you breathe out, feeling your orgasm quickly approaching, a tight knot in your stomach.

"you wanna cum all over my cock, pretty girl?" matt groans, looking down at you with hooded eyes, "fuck, cum baby, give it to me."

you can feel both of you guys' legs shake, and you realized he too was close — you clenched around matt, feeling your orgasm wash over you, being engulfed in nothing but pure euphoria as a pornographic moan falls past your lips at the sensation.

matt's thrusts become sloppier as he peppers you with wet kisses to his neck, and you could feel his legs shake as he cums inside of the condom, moaning out your name at the same time.

he pulls out of you and falls onto the couch beside you, both of you struggling to catch your breath — you just had your first time with your best friend.

"that was...amazing," matt grins, looking over at you. he notices the slight frown that takes over your face, "what's wrong?"

"we crossed the line with this, matt," you whisper quietly, you eyes shooting up to meet his, "what is this, now?"

matt says nothing, he just looks at you — suddenly, he leans over and pecks your lips, rubbing his thumb along your jaw. "let me take you on the date, y/n."

omg im back w more smut🫂🫂 hope you liked this babies, muah💌.

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo imagine #sturniolo triplets smut #sturniolo triplets imagine

[skatingbi]

So hear me out on my headcanon guys:

Sanji with heterochromia (i cant spell that fuckin word man..) where one eye is blue and another is brown. He always hides the blue eye.

The first one to notice is Zoro, who is immediantly like "holy shit youre eyes are pretty" and sanji is like "what the FUCK"

Actually fuck it im gonna write about this nobody can stop me.

Sometimes, on lonley nights in the gallery, when Sanji is busy prepping, he looks in the reflection of his knife. Underneath the frizzy mess of a fringe that is part of his hair reveals the blue eye he struggles looking at. He stares, scrutinizing that light blue in the gleam of his knife gripped tightly in his hand. He looks away to force his attention back on prep work. His hands are always slightly unsteady after those moments. He always ends up with a cut on his hand one way or another on those nights.

When Sanji was a kid, his brothers would use his heterochromia as a weapon against him. He was the freak with two colored eyes. They would say his blue eye was creepy, too. Not only was he weak but also too different to be called their brother.

When you're a kid, you take these insults to heart. Eventually, when you're barely into adulthood, they'll still plague you. They become a part of you, just like how Zeff's teachings became a part of Sanji.

Judge looked at his eyes with disgust masked by indifference. It was another reason for Sanji to assume why he was the failure. The outcast. The runt of the litter.

His mother had blue eyes. She always claimed Sanji got his blue eye from her because her father had heterochromia, too. That was the only time little Sanji felt normal. When she died, Sanji started to grow out his hair to hide the only thing he had left of her: her eyes.

Now, Sanji still hides her eyes from view. Realistically, Sanji is fully aware that none of the crew would give a rats ass what he looked like. Regardless, old habits die hard. He feels safe under the mask he made for himself. As he goes about preparing lunch, perhaps grilled sea king again with how luffy is always eager to fight those things, he lets his mind wander to his eyes more. While hands expertly move through his knife like an extension of his body, he thinks about the mess of blond hair that's always in the way. He'd never admit it out loud, but his hair actually bothers him. Since it started growing out, it gets everywhere; his mouth, in his eyes, and tangled in the buttons of his shirt. Is sanji happy with his longer hair? Absolutely. It's a nusiance to leave it down constantly, though.

As he's thinking this, he's blowing the fringe of hair covering his face out of the way every so often so it stops tickling his nose. He continues to evenly slice through a portion of sea king meat until somebody, Nami he realizes immediantly, speaks up.

"Do you need a hair tie, sanji?" Nami asks sweetly. Her smile is radiant, as always, while she looks up from the map shes been studying. Sanji didnt even realize Nami came in and made the kitchen table into a study until now, but he doesnt dwell on it. Nami is welcome in his kitchen, after all.

"Oh no, thank you, Nami-swan! I think I just need a haircut soon," Sanji lies as he's moving through the kitchen. He gives Nami a quick smile before turning back to the meat on the cutting board and avoids Nami's gaze under the disguise of being busy. His lie wasn't as believable as he wanted it to be, especially when he's stumbling over his words while he is usually eloquent with them towards Nami and Robin.

"But until then, you should take one! I probably have hundreds lying around my room anyways," She says. It's a peace offering designed to be in Sanji's language of communication. It secretly says he's getting that hairtie whether he wants it or not, and Sanji is weak enough to accept the offering. He takes the hair tie with a grateful smile, wrapping it around his wrist and going back to his current task. Nami and Sanji work in comfortable silence after that, but the hair tie weighs on his wrist like a weighted bracelet.

A few days pass by. Through every single one, he stares at the hair tie in the morning. He really should tie his hair back. It reaches his shoulders for gods sake, and it keeps getting in his mouth - but that small part of him that clings onto grief like its all that he knows refuses to. He doesn't think he can bring himself to share the only part of himself that he truly loves deep down. What if the crew really thinks it's weird? What if his brothers are right?

These what if's roam in the back of his mind. They lurk just beneath the surface like an unknown predator hidden in murky water. He ignores it along with the anxiety that crawls up his throat every time he looks at his wrist.

Then, a week passes by. Now he's in his kitchen making a simple breakfast for his nakama. Franky, in particular, will enjoy this since his tastes lie within American style food most of the time. He focuses on seasoning the eggs, some of them cooked differently to cater to everyone's tastes. While he goes through the familiar and therapeutic motions of cooking, the door opens to reveal an annoying head of mossy hair and the steady noise of three swords bumping each other at the hip.

" Oi, go to sleep in your own bunk. I dont need you stinkin' up my kitchen while im trying to work." He utters without looking up from the stove.

"Why can't I just sleep here shit cook?" Zoro grunts. Sanji hears him shuffle around on the gallery's couch behind him. He's probably lying down, or maybe he'll sleep sitting up again, or maybe he'll watch Sanji cook. That's the most irritating one, which usually ends up with them fighting out on the deck one way or another.

"Because youre fuckin' annoying, get out."

"The hell I am, I'm taking a nap here."

"Oh my - You know what?" Sanji whips around to glare at Zoro, making sure the knife he was using is now in his hand to point at the source of his ire, "Fine, but if I hear a single snore out of you I'm kicking you into the ocean!" He threatens and turns around to finish up with breakfast. By now, all he has left is pancakes. The batter was prepped earlier, so now it's just focusing on pouring evenly. It's task that's menial but still important to him regardless.

His hair is covering his face too much. He tries to shake his head to flip it to the side. It falls back to where it was before he can pick the bowl of batter back up. He brushes it over his shoulder, and it simply flows back over it. He blows his hair out of the way, a classic move, but not even that works and he's slamming the bowl down on the counter before he can even stop himself and walks away from his work to grab the hairtie from around his wrist. In a few fluid motions, he ties his hair back haphazardly into a poor attempt at a low bun, but it's out of his face, and now he can focus.

He's too deep in concentration to even remember that he has heterochromia in the first place. Cooking lowers his guard unlike anything else in the world. The gallery acts like a safe space and cooking is his comfort. He still forgets, too, while calling for Zoro to get his lazy ass up to help since he's decided to loiter in his kitchen.

"Hey moss, if you're gonna laze around my kitchen, set the table for me." His request demand is met with a middle finger, which Sanji gladly returns as he walks over to the couch to kick Zoro on the stomach. The half asleep annoyance is now suddenly alert and glares at Sanji for a moment before it's quickly replaced with a look Sanji has yet to add to his mental notes he likes to call "Marimo Dictionary". Zoro's eyebrows are slightly raised, and his eyes glitter with something Sanji rarely sees. He's never been able to place a name on that look. Now he's confused. "What? Dont give me that youre tired crap youre not fuckin 10." He says.

Zoro is still looking at him, though, and now Sanji looks back with confusion because what the fuck is he-

Oh. His eyes.

Shit.

Sanji rips the hairtie out of his hair at light speed, probably pulling a few strands out by accident in the process but he could honestly care less when theres something more important. Like whatever the fuck just happened.

Before he can turn away and go set the table himself to distance himself from the marimo, Zoro's hand moves suddenly to grab his wrist, stopping him from running away.

"Wait, wait, hold on," Zoro pleads. And what the fuck. Zoro has never said anything like that and its fucking with Sanji's head because what the fuck. "You...uh." He continues in his signature graceless way. "Your eyes..." He pauses after that, sitting up and looking at Sanji, but not just looking, he's looking.

"Marimo," Sanji's own voice is riddled with anxiety with how shaky it is now. "Let me go dumbass," He demands but it could have been mistaken for him begging with how much he's struggling to keep himself together.

He's anticipating the worst. He knows what he's expecting. Sanji has experienced it countless times before, and he's aware he will again right now while a pancake is probably burning on the pan for all he knows.

It doesnt.

Zoro is looking at him still, maintaining eye contact but also darting between both eyes. He's looking at him like those golden eyes are looking into his soul and its too much.

It's too much because Zoro's response is uncharacteristically soft in so many ways. Zoro speaks to him like he's speaking with reverence, "Your eyes are beautiful."

Sanji shatters on the gallery floor there. His soul is bare for Zoro to see suddenly and that terrifies Sanji. Nobody has ever told him he's beautiful. Especially his eyes. He yanks his wrist from Zoro's grasp and speed walks to the stove to turn it off and remove the burnt pancake from the pan. He doesnt respond. He cant, not when his heart flutters when it should have been anchored down by rejection.

Then, Sanji walks up to Zoro, grabs onto both his shoulders, pushes him out the gallery door with surprisingly little resistance, and slams it shut. He leans against the door, sliding down until he's sitting on the floor with his head tucked between his knees. His face is burning and his face is probably red like a tomato right now. He stares at the ground with wide eyes and a weirdly giddy feeling in his chest and stomach nearly akin to happiness but also dangerously close to feeling freaked the hell out.

"What the fuck."

#Bro...I will make this a series on god #like man...writing the second half of this was SO FUCKIN FUN #Anyways sanji has heterochromia supremacy #zosan #one piece #roronoa zoro #black leg sanji #vinsmoke sanji #sanji being called beautiful is his gay awakening #and he's late preparing breakfast after that #he'll probably smoke an entire pack of cigs after that too #somebody help this poor disaster #Sanji has Heterochromia

[whoopsyeahokay]

October Sun

summary: the ability had manifested after your first semester of 7th grade. after the farmhouse cellar and the trail through the woods. after the EMTs and the policemen and Then Deputy Baxter. it was something you kept to yourself although you knew your mother had her suspicions. it made you more vulnerable to the things that go bump in the night, which was why you never used it. or so you thought.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: eventual smutty smut smut. and mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence.

at last, the bbys have words! which means this is a long one 🕊️

bon reading, frens

___________________________💀

OCTOBER SUN pt.9

The pulse between you and Wally flared to a fever pitch, swirling and cresting around you, into you, through you. One hand in your hair, fingers kneading; the other secure on your hip, supporting you firmly in his arms.

You wanted to bask in it forever, an intoxicating maelstrom of sensation, and all at once every pop ballad you'd heard growing up made sense. The kiss deepened and shallowed; a swipe of his tongue, twin gasps, a moan, then back in, hungry and untethered.

Wally placed you on the edge of the stage, careful, like a totem at an altar, his lips never leaving yours for more than a breath. He stood between your thighs, big hands roaming down your arms to your waist, hips, up again, fingers teasing under the hem of your t-shirt.

Gradually, the feeling of hot need now lessened, though didn't dissipate completely. Rather, it softened into something contented, manageable. Satisfied now that you and Wally were tangled in each other's space.

Thoughts filtered in through the thinning cloud; questions you had to ask; admissions you had to give, so you put a stalling hand on Wally's chest and nudged gently.

"Wait," You said, and now you knew what you sounded like after being ravished to oblivion, wow. "We need to talk."

Wally blinked his eyes open, sweet brown almost entirely eclipsed by arousal. His lips, kiss-plumped and red, turned up in a smile you couldn't help but mirror.

Even though you'd shunned reason and responsibility—had gone against a lifetime of rules and shared yourself with a ghost—you felt at peace for the first time in days.

"What's up, baby?" Wally asked, pressing his forehead to yours. He took your hands in his, fingers laced, and waited for you to speak. But as you were about to, a lightbulb seemed to blink on in his head and he straightened. "Hold up," his voice dropped to a panicked whisper. "If you don't want anyone else to know, we should get out of here or Mina—"

"Is on lunch—" you air quoted, "—for another thirty minutes. She goes twice a day, sits outside the door, eats the same ham and cheese her mom packed her, and smokes the same cigarette she stole off Miranda Paterson before rehearsal."

Wally gaped, "I~ did not know that." Then he frowned cutely, "How do you know that?"

"My mom." You admitted, "She graduated the same year Mina died and warned me about it before I started here. She actually witnessed Mina's first loop." You grimaced, "The benefits of a residual haunting, I guess."

"Residual haunting?"

As you spoke, you crossed your ankles at the small of Wally's back and guided him back to you, "Basically, the worst kind of loop the dead can get stuck in." A peck to his lips, "At least, in my opinion."

"You know a lot about this stuff, huh?" He asked through quick, dry kisses of his own, grinning smugly when you chased his mouth as he leaned away.

You blushed and licked your lips, watched in fascination as Wally tracked the movement before doing the same. He squeezed the curve of your hips, fingertips digging into your flesh, pulled you roughly against him, and nipped your lower lip.

"Tease," He said, rolling his hips against you so you could feel how worked up he was.

You moaned, the pulse flaring again, brief and bright, and oh hell no, you had to talk. Hoping to temper the connection back to a simmering second thought, you decided to answer Wally's question.

"My family has a long and unique history with the paranormal. According to my Nanna, we can trace it all the way back to the Arthurian Age." You punctuated your statement with a lingering kiss, separating on a sigh. "You make it really hard to concentrate."

You felt kind of dumb admitting that aloud and were relieved when Wally snickered, "Back at you, baby."

He stroked the back of his pointer finger down your cheek, gazing at you as if in worship. It was heady being on the receiving end of such a look, and you hoped he saw in your eyes equal awe and appreciation.

"How about we just—" He took a step backward, out of your space, and instantly the connection between you protested.

You whimpered, a grouchy kitten of a sound, and he reinserted himself between your legs, hands smoothing up your thighs to your hips where they rested.

"Or not." He said. After a lengthy pause, he asked, "Do you have any idea what this is?"

"Nope. And we have a pretty specific collection of books at home. I couldn't find anything that talks about what this—" You indicated between you and him, "—might be. I'm praying that there'll at least be something there about why I can't see Maddie." You hadn't meant to divulge that tidbit so casually, but there it was.

Wally was visibly shocked, "Hold up, you can't see Maddie?" You shook your head, "So. At the bus stop yesterday, you really had no idea she was there?"

Holy shit, "Maddie was there?!"

Not all ghosts were visible, true, but every ghost had an assortment of ways to signal their presence. And you hadn't received any of them. No niggling thoughts in the back of your mind or strange prickles up your spine or high-pitched ringing in your ears. Zero, zip, zilch, nada.

"Yeah, she followed you and, uh, What's His Name—"

"Simon." You supplied, distracted.

"Him, yeah. She followed you guys out there. Wanted to see if you knew something about what happened to her."

Casting your mind back to yesterday's conversation, you tried to recall if Simon mentioned anything worthwhile. Except, he hadn't wanted to talk about Maddie. Not initially, not until you brought her up. Simon had wanted to talk about, "Whether or not I can see ghosts..." You glanced up at Wally. "That can't be coincidence. What if Simon's like me and he just can't see Maddie, either?"

Wally gave you a sympathetic look, "Trust me, that guy can't see ghosts."

"And how would you know that?" You raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"I've been here for a while, pretty girl." For some reason, that fact made your heart ache, "You're the second person with a pulse I've seen who I ever thought might be able to see me back."

"Second?"

Wally stared at you, long and hard, as if anticipating the pieces would slot into place. When they didn't, he helped you along, "You don't really look like her, you know?"

"Ah, yeah, obviously." Your mother, who had been a freshman at Wally's final Homecoming game. Your eyes narrowed, "How do you know it was my mom?"

"Back then, I didn't. But, after what you mentioned, it doesn't take a genius." Wally chuckled. "She never talked to me. And I never felt like this with her." He emphasized his point by delivering a bruising, heated kiss, parting with a wet-sticky smack.

Dazed, "Yeah, pretty sure that's something she'd lecture me about if it happened before. At least we can rule out that it's a 'you thing'."

"Cool, so it's not me. What about you?" Wally said, expression calculating, "What's changed?"

You cocked your head, "What do you mean?"

This time, Wally kissed you softly before he said, "Babe, you've managed to ignore me for three years because neither of us felt desperate to climb into each other's skin. So...why now?"

He was right.

You were a little impressed and a lot turned on. Wally had always come across to you as a bit of a stereotypical jock: somewhat slow on the uptake, but well-meaning and full of heart. And muscle. And stop it right there, not the time!

It made you consider that, while there was this intense, driving connection between you both, you didn't really know Wally Clark that well at all. Yes, you'd observed Wally from afar for the duration of your high school career, but up until yesterday, you'd never spoken, never revealed personal secrets or interests or anything.

As far as you were aware, he liked football and football-related things, and you were pretty sure he had an equally shallow idea of what made you tick aside from being able to see dead people.

Saddened by the realization, you blurted, "What's your favorite color?"

Wally seemed adorably rightly confused, "What?"

You repeated, "Your favorite color, what is it?"

"Um, red. What's yours?"

"Purple." Some days. "Or dark orange." Sounded more accurate, but actually, "Mostly green, but not, like, neon or anything."

Wally pressed his lips together, suppressing a goofy smile for a couple of seconds before surrendering it. "That answer totally suits you." He bussed you on the nose, making you go cross-eyed for a moment, "Do colors mean something?"

"No," You shook your head lightly, twinkling, "I just thought we should probably get to know each other better if we're gonna be under the influence of random hedonist ghost energy."

"Do you think that's what's making your powers go on the fritz?" Wally wondered, his phrasing punching a laugh out of you.

"Nah, it's not as simple as a glitch in the Matrix. This shit doesn't get glitchy."

Taking him by the wrists, you led his hands behind you so that you were more fully encased in his arms, tucking your head under his chin and circling your arms loosely around his waist. You felt safe, wrapped up in him like that. Like nothing bad could or would ever happen to you again.

"Okay..." He said, picking through what information you'd given him so far. "If your ghost powers are working and it's not because of whatever's going on with us, maybe it's Maddie? Maybe you can't see her because she's new? She hasn't been dead as long as the rest of us, only since last Friday..."

"Uhm, yeah, also not how this works." You replied playfully, bumping the tip of your nose to his, "Trust me, it takes four minutes before a person goes from attached to their earthen vessel to haunting the science lab."

A wicked, ruthless moment for everyone involved.

The scar on your left hand itched, reminding you of the nightmare that had hauled you in and coughed you out of that farmhouse cellar. Where you'd discovered—down to the second—how long it takes a soul to disconnect from the living world and cross over.

You groaned, "Maddie can't be dead." A hill you would proudly die on because that was the only explanation that made any kind of sense.

Wally wasn't convinced, "She seems pretty dead to me. I can see her. Rhonda, and Charley, and the others can see her. No one else can."

Feeling like a parrot, you repeated, "And I can't. What if...What if she isn't dead? What if she's trapped?"

"You mean more trapped than the rest of us?"

The statement inspired a whole host of questions that you forced yourself to ignore for the time being.

"This is gonna sound insane—"

"You're literally talking to a ghost."

"Insane-er," You amended, "But Maddie could've slipped into an In Between somehow." You barely had an argument, the list of hypotheticals dismal against what knowledge you'd collected from various factual sources, but you weren't willing to let it go. "Look, death is a very direct journey from one plane to the next, no detours. But if she isn't dead, then it could be possible."

Wally's eyes seemed to be trailing an onslaught of thoughts as they traveled across his mind. "Okay, yeah, you're right, that sounds insane. What the hell is an In Between?"

"It's—" A distant metallic snap-shudder pierced the otherwise quiet theater, interrupting you. Before you were able to discern where it had come from, you felt a hand grab your shoulder from behind.

You gasped, knocked back into yourself, and when you looked up, you saw Wally in a state of bewilderment, standing with his mouth agape and eyes the size of dinner plates, at the end of the center aisle that's length now divided you.

A familiar, though markedly less friendly, voice demanded, "What are you doing in here?" and when you glanced over your shoulder, Mr. Anderson stared, hard and haggard, awaiting your explanation.

💀___________________________

PART EIGHT - PART TEN

note: dun dun dun...i really hope you guys are still with me 😅 the next update might take me a little longer. between schoolwork and work-work and Life Things, i'm kinda swamped, but i'll do my absolute best to getter done!

sidenote: please let me know if the taglist ISN'T working for you. i'm fiddling with it in the hopes that something will work, so i need some feedback 🫥 merci my loves!

if you'd like to be kept up-to-date, please join the tag list!

@chosenoneslver @yoluv-tiannaaa--212 @call-me-bunny @vi0lentb3rry @ilbradipodisagiato @bbjel @miwagila @calam-arii @lovekm @melcatherine24 @valskeeper @milo-manheim-luver @starstruck-cupid @frenchvanillabatty @timetravelingmedstudent-blog  @remanisce @noonesgoneuntiltheyregone @sukihito @alnitakstarsky03 @naok-iyuu @capailluiscedove @clearglittersparkle @cancelledkaley @jjmaysbaby @girlkissersco @bebbalandia @pixxiestixs @elauranicolee @madsrose @justareadernotawriter1 @hakunama-fuckit @alnitakstarsky03 @twsssmlmaa @urmomsspeciallady @bookedbymiri @thekebs @kitthouse @jacks4lifer @pommepiie @makennadement @kaceyh24 @1118b @deafstuff @musicownsme @onlyaero @peppermint-girl-blog @moonbutt12345 @moonlit-luna @allurycenoelle @briwasnothere @emilysamirrorball @ddarling-ddearest-ddead @amberputh @lunacurlclaw @unfortunatekiwitrash @rideacowbcy @aurory--borealis @lindsayjoy444 @cthoodaf @lomlbillieeilish @jasf444 @hoonieyun @styles-lov3r @vacillier @nowillingtolive @penny-the-pilea

#Milo Manheim #Wally Clark #Wally Clark x Reader #fem!reader #Wally Clark smut #Wally Clark fanfiction #Milo Manheim fanfiction #School Spirits

[b33zlebubz]

RIGOR MORTIS | CHAPTER SEVEN

SIMON RILEY X AFAB READER | 18+ MDNI | MASTERLIST | AO3 PREV CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER TAGS: reader uses she/her pronouns, fluff angst & eventual smut, blood violence & death, suicidal ideology, slow burn, enemies to lovers, forced proximity, toxic workplace environment, flashbacks “Abandoned in a battlefield with the one person you thought you would never see again; you're forced to come to terms with the ghosts of your past."

WEDNESDAY APRIL 24TH 2024  MEXICO, 0000 HOURS

The pain in your chest is getting worse.

It's hard to sleep that night for many reasons.  One: with all the rain of the other night it's hard to find any wood dry enough for a fire.  Mexico has relatively tame weather compared to what you're used to, but Springtime is a whole different beast, inconsistent and unpredictable.  Nearly ninety degrees in the daytime and then dropping down to the fifties at night, you find yourself sweating all day just to be freezing and damp when the sun sets.  The thin blanket you pull out of the back of a wrecked truck doesn't help much and neither does the fact that you've developed a fever.

Two: you're definitely sure you have at least one broken rib.  The first day after the battle you had the adrenaline to numb the pain, but now that it's faded, it's easier to notice how it takes a great deal of effort just to breathe without your lungs spasming painfully.  Each breath aches, rattling in your chest.  You can't put pressure on your side without seeing stars and the bruises are damn near black across the expanse of your ribs.  Still, you won't rest more than a few hours at a time—knowing that the second you do, you might not be able to get up again.

And that brings you to the last thing; the radio is still dead silent.

You're staring at the ceiling, leaning back against the truck's wall as you listen to it; the static.  The charge has died twice now and both times you've revived it with an emergency battery.  Once that runs out, you plan to charge it with the SUV.  The longer you listen to the buzz of an empty signal paired with the steady sound of Ghost's breathing beside you, the longer you get to thinking about what might happen if nobody comes to find you.  

You think about the first time you put your survival training to use; left for dead in some safe house during your tour in Yemen, left by your squadron in a rushed retreat.  Back then, the pain in your side had been a nasty knife wound to your ribs, but now it was shattered bone and bleeding organs.  The longer you listen to the static the easier it is to recall the coldness of concrete on your skin, the burn of sand-caked sweat and blood in your eyes.  The sputtering static of your comms picking up no signal and the growing panic of being forgotten.  The blood.  The death.  The memory once so far away now felt tangible again; real.

It's funny.  The longer time went on the easier it was to forget about moments where you weren't so strong, but it was also easier to get lost in them whenever they unearthed themselves at the most inconvenient of times.  

Then a warm hand on your shoulder shatters the illusion—and you panic.

Within moments, you're up again.  You grab the unknown enemy by the front of his shirt and force him back against the floor with an audible thunk—causing weapons and gear to swing and the truck’s suspension to bounce.  When the red clears from your vision, your eyes are locked with two tired, brown irises blown wide with surprise as your grip tightens on his wrists against the floor.

Shocked to your core, your body goes rigid.

You lost a lot of your usual muscle mass during your first few weeks in Camp Viking; after Yemen and everything else that happened.  Stress, too much sleep or not enough, and a complete lack of appetite were a fatal combo to all the progress you made after signing your life away—so when Ghost met you, you were the weakest you've been since before joining the military.

Now: your shoulders are broader, arms and legs thicker and crisscrossed with ragged scars.  Skin glistens with the sweat of a fever as you hold him, still bigger than you, pinned to the floor.  

The breath knocked from his lungs; he's panting.  You're close enough to feel the warmth of his breath on your face, to see how your own labored breathing stirs the hair laying on his forehead.  Close enough to realize you've only ever seen him out of breath like this one other time—

Christmas Day.

His eyes flash with something familiar and you know he remembers it, too.

You shoot off of him in an instant.  Mind reeling, you turn to leave.  Run.  Do something to quell the fire in your veins and the burn of memories in your delirious mind.

"Angel, wait—"

The nickname falls on deaf ears.  Before he can gather his bearings enough to scramble upright, you've grabbed the radio and disappeared into the night with a burning face and a newfound heat in your bones.

WEDNESDAY APRIL 26TH 2024  MEXICO, 0300 HOURS

"Echo 0-2 to Actual."  

Your voice sounds rough with insomnia whenever you speak into the radio for the hundredth time.

It's been two nights since you've been in the van with Ghost, two nights since you've talked.  You're avoiding him—it's just as clear to you as it is to him—and embarrassment ravages your mind as you continue to keep yourself upright, keep yourself moving.  Now, the stretch of bodies was four lines deep instead of two.  Now, sitting on top of the SUV with ruined boots dangling over the edge and a raggedy blanket on your shoulders; it officially burned like hell to breathe.

Above you, the stars are the brightest you've seen since Camp Viking.  The night is just as quiet.

You close your eyes for a long time, dread settling in your stomach at the thought of staying here much longer; of what might happen if you're not found.  You think about how long the walk from here to the next civilization might be—if, by some miracle, they don't shoot you on sight.

Bandaged, anxious hands hold the radio tight in your lap before pressing the button and bringing it to your face once more.

"Again, this is Echo 0-2 attempting to reach Actual.  I've got a wounded Lieutenant with me…is anyone there?"

Static.

You try again, "Echo 0-2 to Actual.  Watcher.  Anyone."

Again, nothing.  You sigh, batting the side of the small machine against the heel of your hand.  Crickets chirp somewhere far off in the distance as you curse and eventually give up.  Tired eyes fall over the pitch-black landscape before you, getting lost in the quiet.  Your skin prickles against the cold air as your eyes sink shut. Shoulders slump for what feels like the first time in weeks as exhaustion, a gentle but swift current, sweeps you under.

"Nice night."

You jump and whip around, clutching the fabric of the front of your uniform.  

"Fuck," you breathe out.  "Just you."

He stands with what appears to be two of the American MREs you found in hand, his uniform notably cleaner now—having shed his dark, dirt-matted jacket for a dark compression shirt that stretches over thick muscles.  He looks…better.  Able to stand upright, at the very least.  There's more color to his face but that could very well just be the cold.  The fresh bandages you helped him put on the last time you talked don't show any signs of being bled through and he definitely doesn't have a hard time sneaking up on you—a good sign.

"Well…don't sound too excited."

You only huff at his remark, turning back around to look at the radio in your lap as your face burns with embarrassment.  Your hands are still shaking as you take a deep breath to try and steady yourself, and you wait for him to finally mention it—acknowledge it.  Your hands on his wrists.  His heaving chest.  Your breath on his face.  Christmas Day.

He shifts and at first you think he might be leaving now that he knows where you are.  Instead, he appears beside you, sliding down to dangle his legs over the edge and wordlessly hand you one of the MREs.

Your throat constricts at the very thought of food, staring down at the sad, brown package as he tears his open and sets it up to heat.  You squint at the label to read the contents.

Cheese Tortellini in Tomato Sauce.  Well, there are worse things. 

"No luck?"  He asks.

You let out a sigh of relief and mentally thank whatever God above he decided against bringing it up.  Instead, you shake your head wearily as you set the MRE aside, deciding to save it for when you know you'll keep it down.  Hypocritical, you know, but you've only been able to find a handful in the rubble thus far.

"No," you breathe, disheartened.  "Still nothing."

A moment passes, filled only by the sound of crickets and the rustle of plastic packaging.  There's movement in the distance followed by barking.  Coyotes, no doubt.  

You both sit in silence for a while and your thoughts slip back into dark territory.  You rub your chilly arms as you stare out over the hellscape before you—wondering how many more bodies out there you have left to gather.  How many families you're failing; leaving their beloved soldiers in the mud to rot because you're losing the ability to walk straight.

Then, Ghost speaks, ripping you out of the depths of your head.

"Why did the monkey fall out of the tree?"

You shoot him an incredulous look.  Then, you shake your head with a scoff.  You know what he's trying to do; lighten the mood, in his own strange way.  For a moment it works, and it's easy to pretend you're somewhere else. A simpler time, maybe, where all you had to worry about was which hallways to take to avoid being seen sneaking around the barracks.

You try not to let his obvious attempt at lifting your spirits work.  So, you only raise an eyebrow at him, "really?"

"Why did the monkey fall out of the tree?"  He repeats again, nonchalant as ever, as he pushes his food around the package with his fork.

You stare at him for a while before deciding to humor him with a sigh.  "Too many bananas…or something?"

"'Cause he's dead."

"Hm," you nod your head, pursing your lips into a line.  "That was bad even for you."

He huffs, "too soon?"

"Far too soon." 

"Noted."  He shifts, placing his food to the side to take something out of his pocket.  After all these years, it surprises you that even he's still off-put by the smell of death in the air.  "You got a light on you?"

A stupid question—and he knows it.

"Always.  Why?"

He pulls a full pack of Marlboro Reds out of his pocket, flicking the top open.  The packaging is slightly crumpled but otherwise remains spotless, unlike the rest of him.  He plucks one out and holds it out to you.

You glance at the cigarette, then up at his face—almost shocked he managed to keep them safe while the rest of him is so beat up.  You notice bruises are beginning to show under his eyes from his broken nose and there's a stubble starting to form on his jaw, patchy with scars you never noticed until now.

You take out your lighter.  An orange glow lights up his battered face as you flick it twice, let the flame catch, and then shut it again.  He takes a deep inhale, sitting back on his other hand, before letting the smoke billow out past his chapped lips.

"Fuck," he sighs, already slumping with relief.  "Could always count on you for a light.  Good to know that hasn't changed."

"What can I say," you respond, managing what you can of a small smile.  "I'm an angel."

He chuckles lowly.  "You're anything but, Colonel."

He offers the cigarette to you.  It's tempting, really tempting, but the pain in your lungs is far more annoying than the nagging effects of withdrawal. 

"I'm good," you brush his arm away and attempt to hide the tremor in your hands.  "I quit a few years ago."

"Hm," He seems surprised, or maybe he's humoring your obvious lie, you're unsure.  Nevertheless, he presses the cig to his lips again.  "Good on you, then."

You find yourself relaxing again slowly, anxious thoughts easing as you breathe in the smell of nicotine and look up at the stars above.  It's silent save for the sounds of the desert, and you find yourself thinking about a time where you both sat just like this for hours.  Getting by with nothing but the warmth of a heater, a flickering lantern, and a pack of cigarettes to keep you both company.  You remember laughing until your stomach hurt at his dry humor, once upon a time.

"This place is hell," Ghost says, deadpan as ever, as he exhales another cloud of smoke.

Flashes of cold concrete, rough sand, and nauseating heat flash through your mind again.  You realize, then, you prefer the warmth over the cold any day—no matter what you've gone through. 

"I think I'd rather be in hell," you mutter, rubbing your arms.  "At least it's warm, there."

He chuckles a little, and you wonder if he's reminiscing just as you are.

"That it would, Colonel," he says.  "That it would."

It's quiet again.  Years ago, the silence might've been filled by soft touches—a head against a shoulder or a hand on a back.  Instead, you both just sit there.  His hand is just centimeters away from your own, and you wonder if it would be easier to take it or pull away.  Or just…talk.  You want to speak, want to apologize or something—but the words are stuck in your throat.  You want answers, you want closure, but your hand curls into a fist as you realize that fuck.  You're not strong enough to break the question.

He's staring at you.  You can feel when he does it.  For some reason, you always have.  After a moment, you hear him take a breath.  He leans back on his hand as the other flicks his cigarette and comes up to touch the sore part of his head.  

"You know…"  He begins with a sigh. His mouth opens and shuts again, hesitant.  Suddenly, he looks away.  "I—"

"This is Watcher trying to reach Echo 0-2 and Bravo 0-7," a garbled, female voice interrupts him from the radio.  "We hear you, Angel."

@crazy-phan-girl13

#simon ghost riley x reader #call of duty #call of duty fanfiction #cod #cod x reader #simon ghost riley #call of duty modern warfare #ghost fanfiction #simon riley fanfic #ghost x reader #cod ghost #simon riley

[unohanabbygirl]

Hiding in plain sight

Warning: non con

Part 2

Full fic on Ao3 ☺️

- - -

A/B/O AU Lucemond where Aemond goes into rut at storms end after Luke presents in lord Borros hall and chases him down. Arrax doesn’t die but his wing is badly injured and Luke is too weak from heat to run.

Aemond lands Vhagar and hunts him down by his scent, eventually finding and nonconing him. The silver haired man has gone fully mad from rut by this point, treating Luke as if he’s a rag doll. Senses mute to everything but the smell of newly flowered omega.

Luke closes his eyes as his uncle relentlessly thrusts into him. Suddenly, he feels a deep pulling sensation in his chest. Just then he realizes Arrax is close enough to watch what was happening, reaching out to Luke through their bond to comfort him.

His beloved childhood companion knows he’s being hurt and doing what little he can to help.

It devastates him further.

Once it’s over, Aemond who is still not in his right mind leaves Luke without a second glance.

Luke breaks down. Not only is he an omega making him ineligible to be lord of driftmark, but his maidenhead has been stolen, leaving a very slim chance for a political marriage to be negotiated. No one wants a soiled omega.

To make matters worse Aemond is a prime alpha, a rare breed which are few and far in between. His seed will take, no matter how much moon tea Luke drinks.

He’s now broken and will likely swell with a bastard. He refuses to face the shame and humiliation that will come not only to him but his family. His mother can’t win if her reputation is stained once more.

A barely breathing Arrax shakily flys back to Dragonstone without his rider, leaving the entire realm confused once they receive word.

The blacks and greens alike are convinced Aemond killed the young prince.

Aemond goes half mad as he isn’t able to recall anything past Luke entering Lord Borros hall.

“A son for a son” Daemon whispered as he held his grieving wife who had fallen to her knees once news of their son’s disappearance and possible murder reached them.

Nine months later Luke is living his life as a simple fisherman in a small village away from the madness of war, tucked away in a loving community where who sits on the iron throne doesn’t matter.

Luke gives birth to a healthy baby boy with the help of local midwives. A babe with mahogany hair and chocolate eyes just like his mother, but with the face of his father. Osferth, Luke breathes as he rocks his bundle of joy. Who knew something so beautiful could come from a joining so cruel.

After five wonderful years rumors begin to spread of the lost prince living as a fisherman in a small village with a brown haired child. The whispers are baseless and unreliable, but a grieving Corlys must see for himself, he won’t be able to go on knowing there’s a chance.

Two years later as Luke sets up his small stand to sell the morning’s latest catch while Osferth runs around with the other village pups, a cloaked man greets Luke as he’s cleaning his stock. The brunette looks up from his chair to see his grandsire standing above him, frozen in place with tears in his eyes.

“Oh how you’ve grown.” Clorys whispers as his vision blurs with tears.

Hours later over a hot cup of tea, Luke tells Corlys the entire story from his presentation to how excruciating giving birth had been. Nearly bursting into tears when he recounts Osferth’s conception. His grandsires initial reaction is to gut the one eyed Targaryen, but Luke stops him. He has a good life here, away from the lies and fighting. His son will grow up happy and able to live life as he pleases without the cold emptiness of duty and sacrifice.

Corlys hesitantly agrees, but only on one condition. Luke and Osferth will move to Pentos where Corlys has a small property they can live in, spacious and beautiful but still cozy. He will pay for everything they need and visit as much as possible, he’s already lost so much time with Luke, he refuses to miss out on his great grandsons childhood.

Lastly, he will legitimize Osferth as a true Velaryon.

Luke is a little nervous but agrees on his own condition, Corlys must keep everything he knows a secret.

ten years later everything is just as peaceful as it had been before. Luke created a small garden that he spent his free time in while Osferth who had bloomed into a kind omega just as his mother, had taken to the culinary arts. Making him and Luke delicious, creative meals with many of the ingredients Luke grew.

It’s their own little slice of heaven, that is until one day two knights claiming to be sent by the princess rhaenys break into the property and force both omegas to come with them.

Apparently his grandmother heard whispers of Corlys housing an omega along with a bastard child he privately legitimized and came to her own conclusion.

“You are to be presented at court to queen Rhaenyra as per princess Rhaenys request.” The man says, looking Luke up and down like a common whore, not recognizing him as their prince.

“Mother, what’s going on?” His son asks with wide teary eyes.

Luke kisses his sweet boys forehead three times as he lets out a soothing croon. He’s always had a feeling this wouldn’t last, but stupidly hoped it would.

Time to face the music

#lucemond #aemond x lucerys #a/b/o #omegaverse #exuse any errors its like 3am lol #wanna write this but I already have too many fics on my plate #drabble

[the-kr8tor]

Hello! Could I please request TTN Hobie and reader go back to Aunt Janet’s shop, when they are together again after reader comes back from LA, to buy some fabric for something that they are sewing? I would love to see her reaction of seeing them both together!

Have a lovely day/night!

🕊️anon

Yippee a TTN request!! Ly thank you! ❤️❤️❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Tags: use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader, talks of babies, TTN! Hobie and Reader. FLUFF

Thread the Needle series Masterlist

TTN oneshot Masterlist

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

The bell jingles as Hobie opens the door for you, strolling inside, practically skipping from all the happiness of being with him again, you wait for him to enter. He loops his arm around your waist almost immediately. The unabashed PDA would make anyone look away, but who cares? You're complete once again.

“What do you need again?” He asks, eyes roaming around, chin resting comfortably on your shoulder.

“If you stopped and actually listened to my chattering then you won't have to ask.” You say teasingly, a smirk playing on your lips.

“If you stopped snogging me while talking then I won't be so distracted, hmm?” Hobie rubs his chin on your shoulder in an effort to tickle you.

“It's not my fault you keep coming on to me.” Giggling, he scrunches up your face with his whole palm over your entire face, wiggling it playfully.

“If you two don't stop being all sweet there'll be ants all over my shop.” A familiar voice pipes up from behind the counter, making you pause and take off Hobie's hand from your face. “‘ello you two. Welcome back, sweetheart.”

“Auntie Janet!” You squeal, feet bouncing to get to her. Hugging her over the counter, you hold her at arm's length, grinning from ear to ear.

You've noticed the new glasses on her, she has aged a bit since you last saw each other but there's still that twinkle in her eyes whenever she smiles.

“Let me get a good look at you!” You awkwardly twirl around at her behest. She smiles widely.

“So?” You ask timidly.

“Good,” Janet nods approvingly. “You've taken care of yourself well? Ate? Went on walks?”

“I did, don't worry.”

“He taking good care of you then?” She gestures towards Hobie who peruses the shelves.

“He is. Too good in fact, he barely lets me out of his sight.” You joke. “I'm guessing he missed me a lot.”

Janet leans closer to you, whispering. “Don't tell him I told you this but he's a regular customer here.”

“He is?” You ask, feigning ignorance. You know of his vigilante activities, and unfortunately those activities usually end up with his suit cut to pieces or mangled up. It's the main reason why you're visiting, and to also visit Janet of course.

Your heart pounds loudly at the thought of Janet figuring out his secret identity.

“That he is, I think he's making his own clothes. That's how much he misses you. You know, do the activities you like so he feels like you're there with him”

You breathe a sigh of relief, not knowing what you would've said to her if she guessed correctly on why he needs so much fabric. With a giddy smile, you like her conclusion better.

“I'll– put that information to good use.” You stutter,

She nods, “use it wisely.” Winking, she straightens out when Hobie plops a roll of scaly green fabric on the counter.

“Oh is this for Terry?” You ask, hand automatically reaching for his jean back pocket.

Janet looks at you confused.

“Yeah, for patching him up.”

“Wait, do you have a kid? How long have you been home, Y/N?” She looks at you like you've betrayed her.

Before you could explain, Hobie takes the opportunity to tease the old woman.

He pats your stomach, “yeah, she had him a month ago and he's growing very fast, we need new clothes for him.”

You stifle a laugh, you'd tell her eventually but you want to see how Hobie's bit goes.

“A baby boy?!” She points at Hobie menacingly. “She gave birth a month ago and you're already letting her walk around?” Janet comes around the counter, cane at the ready. “Not to mention the fact you already knocked her up the minute she came back home!” She points at Hobie with her cane. “What kind of–”

Hobie shields himself with his arms, laughing loudly while Janet chastises him. Their voices echo out in the shop.

You watch Hobie defend himself from an old woman, smiling, your laughs match Hobie's. Maybe you'll tell Janet the truth once she calms down or else you might get the cane too.

#request done #🕊️ anon #hobie brown x reader #spider punk x reader #the kr8tor's creations #hobie brown #atsv fanfiction #atsv x reader #atsv fanfic #hobie brown x fem!reader #hobie brown x you #spider punk x fem!reader #spider punk x you #ttn! hobie and reader #ttn oneshot #hobie fluff #fanfic

[californianmisoburgers]

May I please request headcanons for Akihiko, Mitsuru, and Shinjiro reacting to their girlfriend cuddling with Koromaru in her bed like this?

Of course! Sorry for the late response, I have finals coming up in a week ;-;

Akihiko Sanada

• Akihiko was surprised to not see you in the lounge when he came home, his head filled with worries. He asked all the others if they had seen you. Eventually he finds out that you should be in your room currently.

• So he goes towards your room and knocks on the door. When he doesn't recieve and answer he knocks again, calling out your name and hoping you'd answer. Eventually Akihiko opens the door, surprised that it's unlocked.

• He was glad when he found you but he didn't expect to see you asleep in your bed, cuddling Koromaru.

• Carefully he walks towards your bed, trying not to wake you up. He slowly sits down behind you and lies down, spooning you. Being this comfortable, Akihiko falls asleep holding you pretty quickly.

• Neither you or Koromaru were actually still asleep after the noise he made entering.

Mitsuru Kirijo

Shijiro Aragaki

• After coming home from a student council meeting, Mitsuru sits down in the lounge reading a book, waiting for you to come home.

• A few hours pass and her concern for you grows. It's dark outside and you usually never stay out this late. She imagines she must have missed you somehow and decides to check out the other floors.

• When she doesn't find you there, she decides to go to your room. However Mitsuru does not knock before entering. As it's late, she suspects you might already be asleep.

• Her suspicions were right, you were asleep. However she did not expect you to be cuddling Koromaru at the same time. Mitsuru watches you for a few minutes at the doorframe with a smile, memorizing this view.

• Eventually Mitsuru leaves, not wanting to disturb you or Koromaru. It does make her night though as she falls asleep in her room thinking of you. She will reference this the next day.

• Shinjiro was very surprised that today you didn't greet him when he came back to the dorms. He looks around the lounge, wondering if you're just doing something else.

• Eventually he decides to go to your room. He knocks, but no one answers. To his surprise your room was unlocked and he entered slowly.

• He didn't expect to actually see you in your room, much less asleep cuddling with Koromaru who is also asleep.

• For a moment he just stands in your room, frozen and unsure of what to do. Shinjiro decides to approach your bed slowly and quietly sits down on your side.

• He looks over to see if he accidentally woke you up. Seeing that your eyes are still closed, he lets out a relieved sigh before he gently brushes your hair out of your face. His brown eyes are watching you closely while he keeps brushing your cheek gently. This is one of the rare moments where he's smiling, his cheeks are blushing lightly red.

• Unbeknownst to him, you are actually just pretending to be asleep.

#persona 3 #persona 3 reload #akihiko sanada #mitsuru kirijo #shinjiro aragaki #koromaru #headcanons #fluff #x female reader

[sephirothsplaything]

So dear author, can I get an extremely intimate, passionate and romantic nsfw imagine/oneshot Daemon x poc/black fem! reader, in which they are married, but reader has been acting strangely for weeks and Daemon is kind of worried/intrigued by her behavior (since she is distant and doesn't talk to him about what's going on) and he goes to Nyra (they're friends) to try to find out what's going on and she just reassures him. But what he doesn't know is that Reader is pregnant and is trying to find a way to tell him. So with the help of Rhaenyra (who is the only one besides her who knows) reader prepares a surprise for him (more like a love nest, complete with candles, flowers, sweets, bath and massage)… While they are there taking a shower together and talking about the amenities of the day, she is giving him a back massage and kissing his scars, then she apologizes for acting strange and tells him the real reason and then he worships her while they make love, please? (sorry for my English, and if it's too long and full of details, feel free to ignore)

I'm ngl Daemon and I struggled a little with this. I really had to lock in for him to be character-accurate, but I sincerely hope you like it! And thank you for requesting I had plenty of fun.

Daemon Targaryen x black fem! reader NSFW

CW: smut obvi, slight pregnancy kink, and breeding kink if you squint and body worship.

Word count: 1320(honestly i have a thing for writing long stuff)

Daemon’s eyes followed as you briskly walked past him.

You hadn’t spoken to him all day. In fact, these days you hardly speak at all. You’d often eat your supper alone or walk with only the company of your handmaidens.

Daemon isn’t one to worry,he had larger matters to attend to than whether or not you're upset with him.

That was his personal opinion at least. Rhaenyra seemed to adamantly disagree.

“There is something bothering her, it is plain to see.” Rhaenyra said. Daemon had come to her for advice, or rather he’d hope Rhaenyra would confirm his thoughts.

“She’s being ridiculous.” Daemon scoffs. Deep down he had to admit, your dismissal of him irritated him immensely. He really did love you, no one could deny this. So why the avoidance?

Rhaenyra scoffs at Daemon. Clearly, what was obvious to her might as well be invisible to him.

Rising up from her seat, Rhaenyra shoots Daemon a pointed look. 

“Take care to be more gentle with her.” She says. And with that Rhaenyra exits the room, leaving Daemon swirling in his thoughts.

You paced around your room. You knew you’d have to tell him eventually. Your belly would soon grow for all the world to see.

“Y/N?” You heard Rhaenyra’s voice call out to you. Ordering your handmaids to leave the room,you invited Rhaenyra to sit by you. She takes your hand in hers,thumb brushing the top of your hand.

“He needs to know.” Rhaenyra sighed out. Of course she was right,as always.

You folded your hands together,deep in thought. Daemon was always caught up in one matter or another. You were unsure on how to speak to him.

“Perhaps you should arrange for something special?” Rhaenyra suggested. You stared at her in confusion. You and Daemon’s relationship was interesting at best. It was never boring, he’d frequently bring you back things such as fine jewelry or books from other kingdoms. 

“I am unsure as to what he’d like.” You admitted,slightly embarrassed. Rhaenyra smiles at you. 

She found it amusing how you, too, seemed oblivious. 

“He’ll enjoy anything you give him,I think.” Rhaenyra assures you.

So here you were,leaning up against the outside of your tub. Your curly white hair rested against your brown skin. You chose to wear a simple linen dress. As nervous as you were,you were in no mood to be decked out in overindulgence.

You had sent for Daemon awhile ago. The longer you sat in waiting, anxiety began to set in. Taking a breath,you took in your surroundings. The bath had since been  drawn and the petals of your favorite wildflowers had been scattered onto your bed and the floor.

But what if he didn’t like it? What if he thought you were a fool for making such an effort? What will happen when–. 

“Y/N?” Daemon’s voice cuts through your thoughts. He walks around your room,taking note of all the decorations you’ve set up. You lift your head up slightly. It was like you were going to puke any minute.

Daemon finds you on the floor of the bathroom. You offer a half smile at him. Daemon crosses his arms,leaning onto one of the walls.

“And what’s all this?” He asks. 

“I just thought perhaps we could take a bath together.” You mumble.

Daemon doesn’t respond. He stares at you for a moment. Then slowly, he passes you by to the bath. He removes his shirt, followed by his pants and undergarments. Getting into the water, he leans back into the tub.

“Well?” He raises an eyebrow at you. Following suit,you remove your dress. Sliding behind him,you lean onto his back. A comfortable silence wafted in the room.

“Caraxes and Syrax have brought forth a new clutch of eggs.” Daemon said. You hum softly as you begin to massage his shoulders. He sighed,leaning back further into you.

“Perhaps I should take an egg for myself then.” You giggled. You hadn’t yet found a dragon for yourself,much to Daemon’s dismay.

You went quiet after that. You still haven't told him. Daemon runs his hand down your arm,silently coaxing you to speak to him.

“I’m pregnant.” You say,voice quivering a little. Daemon stills at the news and you think that you really might throw up, for the second time.

“Is that what you’ve been dancing around?” He finally speaks. You take a breath but the nervousness doesn’t leave your gut.

“I know you’ve been so busy I wasn’t sure if you’d be pleased.” You say quietly.

“You are going to bear my child,why wouldn’t I be pleased?” He scoffs.

You couldn’t find a response for him,so back to silence it was.”

“Do you know that I care for you?” He asks,voice stern.

“Yes.” Your response was immediate.

Daemon stands up,he turns to face you.

“Then,allow me to take you to bed and show you?” He suggests.

With that he slips an arm under your plush thighs,carrying you to the bedroom.

Daemon lays you out on your bed. Your body is flush against him as he kisses you deeply. His hands trail down to your stomach and linger there for a moment. You shivered at the contact.

Daemon kisses down to your stomach and down to your thighs. You whine impatiently and he shushes you.

Daemon devoured you like a man starved. His hands grip harshly onto your plush thighs, sure to leave bruises in the morning. You moan softly, your hand finding its way to his hair as your fingers softly brushed them.

Daemon hummed softly. Then, he removes his mouth from you,beginning to place kisses fervently all over your body. He sits back on his knees,taking you in. The coils of her hair were splayed out on the pillow like a halo. Your brown skin was nearly hot to the touch.

Mother to his child. Daemon couldn't begin to verbalize how perfect you were.

“Perhaps after this child, I should give you another.” Daemon purrs. You gasp in surprise as he drags you by the legs,bringing you closer. Lining himself up with you,he thrusts in one fluid motion.

Curses and moans filled the room,the sounds gracing your ears. It was all so overwhelming,waves of emotions welling up in you all at once. As he continues his harsh thrusts,you think you can hear him mutter about how tight you were for him.

 Your legs wrap around him tightly,urging him on. You felt the soft stabbing of his cockhead up to your most sensitive spots. You whisper out his name,hands making their way towards him, hands interlocking.

Daemon knew you were close,he could feel your walls squeezing him like a vice,ever the tease you were. 

Climaxing, you felt the mixture of his cum as well as yours flow down your thighs. Daemon stays in you for a while,ensuring that not a single drop was wasted. After some time passed,he slowly pulled out of you. Shuddering at the feeling of his warmth leaving you,Daemon pulls your body to him,wrapping his arms protectively around your waist.

The two of you were silent for a while. Daemon gently stroked your back, His head turned to you slightly.

“I assume you’ve come up with names for the child,all that time you were ignoring me.” He says,a slight humor in his voice.

Giggling, you agree you had.

“Aemon if it’s a boy and Rhaena if it's to be a  girl.” You decide. Daemon smiles down at you before placing a kiss on your forehead.

#black oc #daemon targaryen #house of the dragon #daemon targeryen x reader

[peachsayshi]

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minors & ageless blogs dni

tags: au; kishibe x female reader; cam girl! reader;  retired hit man! kishibe; mentions of killing and blood; age gap (reader in late twenties - kishibe is fifty); daddy kink; masturbation

I’m thinking about...

retired hit man kishibe who officially paid off his debts after making a career out of such a dangerous job. he was barely a man when he slit the throat of his first victim, but none of that matters now when he has the blood of so many on his hands. he’s relieved that he no longer has to think about crimson stains or begging screams. he happily moved into his new apartment, even though it’s much smaller than his old bachelor pad. he has enough money to retire at fifty and adopted the stray kitten that hangs around his street. every night he goes to sleep with his head feeling light thinking that maybe, just maybe, he’s finally earned some peace.

retired hit man kishibe is in a dry spell. he is resisting falling back into old habits even though it was so much easier to slip his dick inside one pussy after another without thinking about it. a series of endless hook ups with faces and names blurring into one another - he justified this behavior due to his unlawful line of work and knew that a putting down roots was unrealistic. he didn’t have these excuses anymore, and promised himself that he is going to start changing for the better. he just needed to find a new way to relieve his urges.

retired hit man kishibe never gave technology much thought until he resorted to watching porn online. he is particrularly obsessed with your content.  you only ever revealed yourself from the mouth down but he loved the sound of pretty voice and admired your body covered in such scant clothing. the way you teasingly modeled off your outfits drove him wild, while your fingers played with the the only signature item you wore which was a tiny pink choker that had a little heart dangling in center.

retired hit man kishibe blows extra cash just to have a private session with you once a month. he loves watching you fuck yourself, loves the way you spread your wet lips in front of the camera while whining that it’s all for him. the tip of his cock leaks with cum when you start stripping for him, seductively laughing while asking: “like what you see, old man?”.  he starts enjoying the fact that you taunt him for being almost two decades older than you, and grows fond of the silly pet name you’ve given him. Then there was the time where the conversation got so heated, kishibe wound up watching you bounce on a pink dildo as you moaned “daddy” over and over again. He came so hard that night, his vision went white.

retired hit man kishibe sees you unlocking the door to your apartment. you live right across from him and he recognizes the uniform you’re wearing - a short brown skirt with a fitted black shirt tucked inside. He pinpointed the outfit, and immediately knew that you worked as a waitress at the bakery across the street. he doesn’t stop himself from checking you out, immediately acknowledging how attractive you are. despite what his personal life revealed, kishibe still can’t bring himself to approach a woman much younger than him. instead he greets you with a polite hello, and you give him a pretty smile that makes his brain light up. there was something about you he finds oddly familiar. he just can’t place it yet...

retired hit man kishibe eventually becomes the “helpful” neighbor. he carries your heavy groceries up the stairs when he sees you struggling. he always offers to fix the leaky pipe in your kitchen sink. he keeps your packages safe whenever the mailman drops it off to the wrong door. he gives you leftover foods on special holidays to make sure you have something to eat. eventually you offer to return the favor by promising to pet sit for his cat which he happily accepts. 

sometimes he forgets that his life wasn’t always like this. 

sometimes he forgets that most people only ever looked at him with fear in their eyes.

retired hit man kishibe spent the earlier part of his evening revisiting old connections. he hates that these people think they can lure him back into his past life by throwing numbers at his face. it was all about the money for them, but that’s exactly what put him in this terrible predicament in the first place. he stops by your apartment to pick up taro, but as you open the door he feels his heart drop to the pit of his stomach. you are holding taro in your arms, wearing an oversized hoodie with fitted boy shorts and a pink choker that he instantly recognizes.

retired hit man kishibe thinks it’s a coincidence - but you prove him wrong only two hours later when he sees you on the screen of his laptop with your hoodie discarded on the floor. you’re wearing the skimpiest tank top that barley fits, one hand slipped underneath to tweak your hard nipple while the other was hidden under the thin fabric of your shorts. he watches you with dumbstruck eyes as you whimper how close you are to your orgasm.

for the first time since he’s known you, retired hit man kishibe considers if it’s worth crossing the line that he’s drawn. 

#posted this through my mobile and it deleted my recent edits + these last two paragraphs?? #anyway here is the post #I'm planning on writing this as maybe a one shot or two part series #kishibe x reader #kishibe x hc's #kishibe x female reader #I wanted to share the idea with you thought lskdjflskdfj

[cloverofhope]

I’m asking, tell us abt ur au pls

Ohohohoh gladly

putting a keep reading thing here bc this is gonna be a longish post lol

Quick backstory

Okay, so a little backstory of the au itself. It was originally a roleplay plot that I made to cheer a friend up bc he was upset about something in another roleplay chat, but the plot then was very different to what it is now. Haive didn't exist at the time, nor did most of the characters that are going to be from Haive (aka Berks equivalent.) It was originally called "The Flipped Universe" or at least that was the second version of the plot was. I genuinely cannot remember what the original version was called anymore.

An argument happend and the second version was effectively dropped before we went onto the third version which was effectively the same plot except we switched who played hiccup and boy oh boy are they a good runaway!hiccup player. Most of the times we started the roleplay it, it took place after httyd2 so I'm writing what would've happened from httyd on.

Characters that are important right noW

Clover- she's the main character in this story. She's effectively the Hiccup of Haive. She's a little bit shorter than Hiccup and doesn't grow much past her height in this part of the story. Clover has red hair that goes to about her upper back when she lets it down, and emerald green eyes that could pierce into your soul if she's pissed off. She's pretty artistic, spending any free time she can find drawing something if she's not already focused on something else. She's got a heart of gold and stubbornness to go with it. She's fairly inventive, and she has a lot of spontaneous ideas that do work a fair amount of time

Iris- She's the light fury in the cove. She lost her right tailfin. She's mostly white with spots along her back and head that are grayish purple, but they look more gray than purple. Her ears have pastel blue spots along the top. She doesn't trust easily but once you've earned her trust, there's almost nothing she won't do. She's not the most playful or chatty at first but after she meets Clover and some of the other dragons she really opens up her shell

Rollo- She's the dragon rider that Clover convinced to help. After being raised by dragons, she DOES understand Dragonese and will eventually teach most of the others in the group, one of them being too stubborn to learn. She's the most ruthless of the group in this and sometimes has to be physically held back so she doesn't hurt someone who doesn't need to be hurt. Rollo doesn't understand some traditions at first, and Clover isn't the best at explaining why things are done the way that they are. She's got black hair that's been dyed with flowers that primarily grow on Haive and on islands near it, especially at the nest Rollo grew up on. She's a little bit taller than Clover

Rou- He's the most playful and silly woolly howl anyone could meet. He loves to sing songs for those he loves and is fiercely protective of his family. He's got blue scales and his 'fluff' is a milk chocolately brown. (I'm pretty sure- Its been so long since I've seen his ref sheet lol). Him and Rollo are effectively siblings after being raised together.

Wilder- Clover's younger brother. He's about five years younger. He's a clever little guy who wants to be just like his sister when he grows up. (Or at least he will eventually lol). He's got red hair and freckles galore. He cares a lot, sometimes too much.

mm i think thats all the characters imma do for now- at least in this post- I don't need it being 5000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000 characters long lol

The 'What Ifs' that this AU is based off of that don't really spoil anything

What if Toothless was a light fury instead?

What if Dragonese existed in the movie universe?

What if Hiccup and Toothless ran away before Astrid ever found out?

What if httyd was more gay?

What if hiccup had help while training toothless?

As I'm thinking- I'm realizing that most of the other 'what ifs' spoil a lot- so that's all ya get for now

Headcanons! These won't spoil much- right?

Furies bond with other species by mimicking behaviors

Light furies are great swimmers

Dragons have a whole ass culture, some things can vary from nest to nest, but most things are pretty similar

not exactly sure how to explain this one, but an alpha's command isn't like spoken words- its more a sense only a dragon can feel, and isn't something humans can possibly learn

fury eggs don't explode- nor do woolly howl eggs-

hmmm not sure what else i can add that doesn't spoil a whole lot- so enjoy this!

#httyd #how to train your dragon #hiccup haddock #toothless #httyd fanfiction #httyd au #httyd 2 #fishlegs ingerman #httyd rtte #hiccup horrendous haddock iii #hiccup #how to train your dragon 2 #httyd toothless #httyd movies #snotlout jorgenson #astrid hofferson #ruffnut thorston #ruffnut #httyd ruffnut #ruffnut and tuffnut #tuffnut thorston #tuffnut #httyd tuffnut #Light Versus Night #my au #hiccup how to train your dragon #runaway!Hiccup #Dark!Hiccup #long post #httyd ocs

[casuallyawkardd]

hi! I had a request- would you maybe write a hobie brown x reader smut based on the song"Fuck away the pain" by Divide the Day? if it's not too much bother of course :') thank you!!

Yes, yes, yes gorgeous baby boy 🥰 thank you for your patience. I listened to this song as preparation and got an immediate idea of what I wanted to do, but for some reason my brain couldn't process the words I wanted to write. So I eventually word vomitted everything out and editted it into being something actually readable so I hope you enjoy 😁

Link to the song is here if y'all wanna listen while you read

Pairing: Hobie Brown x GN!Reader

Warnings: NSFW MINORS DNI! Sex, oral sex, rough sex, dubious consent cuz Y/N drunk but we gucci, angst, slight hurt and no comfort for anyone

"You two broke up again, didn'tcha?" Hobie always seems to know where he's wanted, at least when you needed him. However, the candid nature of his voice was less than appreciated.

"How do you reckon?" you ask back, bitterly as you take another swig of your vodka soda. The teasing smile he has plastered on his face only seems to widen, resting his elbow on the bar as he leans a little closer, flicking some of your hair out of your face.

"You only ever come back to this pub when he does," he speaks simply, matter of factly. "What was it this time? Parents didn't like yah? Needed some 'space'?"

"He cheated on me," you answer reluctantly, sounding almost woeful as your head goes to rest in your palm, looking anywhere but him.

"Again?" Hobie scoffs, the sound grinding against your psyche. He never said 'I told you so' whenever you got back with your now ex, only to be broken up with a few months later. It had grown to become an annoying habit of yours. While he never said the words outright, his responses were damn near close every time.

"If you're going to be a dick tonight, I'm not in the mood for it."

"Easy there," Hobie soothes, holding up a placating hand and chuckling at your little outburst. "I'm not the one you should be pissed at."

"You're close to it."

"Oh, I'm wounded," he laughs again, hand over his heart like you'd just wounded him. You roll your eyes at the sight, downing the rest of your drink and signaling to the bartender for another. Hobie watches you, you know he does, and yet you have gotten so good at ignoring his stares. "Come on, I'll order us a couple rounds," he asks the bartender for two shots when they drop off your new drink, already knowing your poison of choice.

"Are you helping me drink away my sorrows?"

"Yeah, what of it?"

You roll your eyes again, the one corner of your mouth turning upward being his hint that you were starting to get a sense of humor again. "You're a bad influence, Hobbs."

He matches your expression, picking up his shot once it arrives and holding it up in preparation of a toast. "When am I ever not?"

And so begins the routine, at least that's what Hobie called it. He hated routine, the mundaness of it all, routine becoming the norm and he hated normalcy more. But this routine was starting to grow on him, or maybe he despised it the most, that was something Hobie had yet to decide.

On one hand, he didn't like to see you so upset, and over an asshole like your ex no less. Hobie never liked the guy, some privileged git from the other side of town, he never knew what you saw in him. They say opposites attract and in your case it was true, but the two of you seemed to repel each other just as much. He liked blowing his parent's money on whatever caught his attention that week, while you understood the feeling of living paycheck to paycheck and tended to be very frugal because of it. He liked going out to upscale restaurants and boating with his friends, while you were content enough with cheap drinks and the occasional bonfire. He liked to chase girls in designer dresses, while you were the one left to pick up the pieces of yourself.

But that's where Hobie came in. He liked being the one to help you put yourself together again, whether it be over drinks or...otherwise. Hobie was always good at listening, good at maintaining the unbiased opinion as you drunkenly vented on your relationship and everything that went wrong this time around. He'd chime in where it was needed, maybe even plant a joke or two into the conversation and by the end you were at least smiling again.

"Thanks Hobbs, I don't deserve someone like you. You really are my best mate," you would say and Hobie would have to smile and brush it off.

"Nah, you deserve better," was what he would say back. And he meant it, every word. Not someone like your ex, who criticized the amount of black in your wardrobe and bought your love with jewelry you didn't even like. Someone who got you, accepted you as you were, every flaw and perfection included. Hobie could be that person, he knew he could, but he also knew he never would be. Not with the dynamic you insisted the two of you keep.

'You're my best friend, Hobie,' you'd say, 'the only guy I can always count on.' Hobie took every comment on the chin, accepting his fate. Seeing you with other men, specifically your ex, never made him jealous. Hobie didn't get jealous. Rather, he was...disappointed? Disheartened you'd rather let some prick like your ex know you at your most intimate when you could do better. Even if 'better' wasn't him.

But those feelings didn't matter right now, not when he was the one you were leaning against as the two of you walked back to his place. You had insisted on it, you always did. It was just another step to the routine you two had established.

"Why don't you wanna go back to your place? It's not far," Hobie always asked.

You'd shrug, "Cuz you're not gonna be there," would be your response.

The lock clicked open, Hobie having to use his shoulder to shove the old door to his apartment open; repeating the action again when he had to force it shut again. He made his way to the small kitchenette, getting you a glass of tap water. Meanwhile, you roamed the small flat, having been away for months and now refamiliarizing yourself with what used to be your second home.

"It hasn't changed a bit," he heard you say, a short chuckle escaping his throat. When he steps out of the kitchenette, you're already sitting on the couch, flipping through the bits of newspaper scattered on the coffee table. When you look up at him, a smile graces your features, the alcohol in your system making it slightly more crooked.

You accept your glass of water with a 'thank you' and take a few sips, Hobie sitting down beside you and lounging back against the leather cushions. He listens at your attempts to delay the inevitable, recounting the countless memories the two of you shared in this small space. The late nights listening to old records, lazy mornings eating leftover bar food. On and on you talk until you're leaning on the arm he has slung over the back of the couch, looking up at him with hazy eyes.

Then you're turning to face him, leaning in until your lips are pressing against his. Hesitant at first, before colliding again with more intention. Hobie returns the gesture, not moving to touch and rather savor the softness of you. "You're drunk," he gently reminds, peeking his eyes open to stare down at your flushed face.

It makes you pause, swallowing thickly before you respond. "So are you," is your groundbreaking rebuttal and it makes him snort. His fingers comb your hair back, kissing your forehead. Then each of your eyelids, nose, cheeks and finally your lips once more. Hobie lets you take the lead, letting you choose when you slide into his lap, straddling his hips and grinding your clothed sex into his. He swallows every small gasp and groan, a hand at the small of your back to keep you in place while he licks and nibbles along your jaw and neck.

The intimacy of it is cut short as you pull away slightly, sinking to the floor between his knees. Your hands seem to move of their own accord, unbuckling his belts and touching him through his pants. Hobie opens his mouth to object, remind you that you weren't thinking clearly, but the words die on his lips when you're freeing him from the confines of his trousers.

He loves your lips. Loves the words that come out of them, how soft they are against his skin and how perfectly they wrap around his cock. A low groan escapes him, leaning his head back on the leather as you set the pace. You're taunting him, slowly sucking him off and holding his hips in place when he tries to buck down your throat.

"Y/N," he groans, a warning that he's close. And yet you're unrelenting, cheeks hollowing as you suck harder and take him deeper. Hobie's teeth grit together, urging himself to pull you back up, a wet pop echoing in the small, studio apartment before he kisses you once again. "This is about you," he reminds, guiding you back to the couch and laying you across the cushions.

Hobie prided himself in not being just another one of your mediocre fucks. It was something you reminded him of during the late night pillow talk. He knows every gasp and moan escaping your lips is genuine, not the pity noises you'd confessed you gave your ex. The soft whimpers you try to muffle as his teeth pinch your nipples, the sharp moans as his fingers explore your insides, stretching and prodding until you writhing beneath him.

"Hobie, please..." you plead, making his dark eyes glance up to your flushed features. It only riles him up further, lips meeting yours firmly. His tongue finds yours, the two dancing together in a passionate kiss. Then he's pulling away just as quickly, lifting you and maneuvering your body until you're bent over the back of the couch.

The remainder of the clothes you both have on join the others on the floor, Hobie taking a moment to admire the view. "God, you're perfect," he groans, hands groping the globes of your ass and massaging the muscle in his large hands.

He resists the urge to cum right then, once his length finds its way back into your warmth. A long moan escapes you as he fills you inch by inch, your walls stretching around him like it's muscle memory. Before you can even think how much better he feels inside you compared to your ex, Hobie is thrusting his hips against your ass. It pushes you into the cushions, practically falling over the back of the couch if Hobie's hands didn't hold your hips so tightly.

The first thrust is meant as a reminder. That you're in his flat taking his cock. Afterward he's a little more gentle, thrusts steady and intentional. Hobie thrusts deep, branding your insides with the shape of his cock. Hoping this time you'll remember his touch, savor every bolt of pleasure that shoots up your spine. It's his way of saying this could be your life. That you could be with someone loyal who wants to fulfill your deepest desires and fuck you until morning.

"Fuck, Hobie," you cry out when his thrusts start to quicken. He's glad you can't see the smug smirk on his face, loving when you say his name in moments like these. How if he angles his hips just right that you'll start to scream it.

His name is a mantra spilling past your lips, over and over until you're coming undone around him. But Hobie isn't perturbed just yet. After he's done taking you on the couch, he has you on the floor, then the kitchen counter and on the bed as well. He gives you the chance to catch your breath between intimate encounters, offering you his shower after pounding you into the mattress. When you mutter something about not wanting to be alone, he follows you in, fucking you against the tile of the shower as well.

It's the early hours of the morning when the two of you have exhausted yourselves. Hobie insists on you drinking another glass of water before passing out in his bed, the two of you sitting in comfortable silence as you do. As you set the glass down on the floorboards, your phone buzzes and Hobie's heart sinks.

He knows who it is without you having to say, watching on as you read the text that just came in. It's the part of the routine where everything crumbles, the illusion of tonight starts to fade. Usually he had more time, your ex waiting until the next day to ask if you could meet up and 'talk'. Which usually meant listening to his newest bullshit excuse.

Hobie watches as you look at the message, contemplation etched into your features before you set the device down again. "I'm so done with that asshole," you mutter as you curl against his side, ready to drift off to sleep. For a moment he just stares, takes in the sight of you and the feeling of your bare skin touching his.

With a heavy sigh, Hobie settles in beside you, tucking your head under his chin. He decides to savor this moment a little longer. Because he knows that come morning you'll go back on your word. That you'll meet up with your ex, reconcile and reconvene with your 'best mate' a few months down the line. You always do.

Tags: @khaleesihavilliard @graysonshaven​ @qiaipia​ @3zae-zae3​ @thedevax @erissco​ @cheezit-luv3rr @leo-lvr @stqrlightrs

#hobie brown x reader #hobie brown #spiderman across the spiderverse #hobie brown smut #spiderman atsv #spider punk #spiderpunk x reader

[boldlyvoid]

What To Expect | Part Two: Case Closed

18+

Summary: When a missing woman from 17+ years ago is murdered, her daughter calls 9-1-1.

warnings: Canon typical violence, 911 calls, mentions of kidnapping, rape, murder, police raids, gun mentions. Pregnancy symptoms, pregnancy tests,

Featuring Characters: Aaron Hotchner, Emily Prentiss, Derek Morgan, Jennifer Jearau, William LaMontagne, David Rossi

word count: 3.7K

Masterlist

When her alarm goes off, she’s so ungodly tired, it’s as if she never slept. But she did. She had 8 hours of the freakiest, unprompted bad dreams that she’s ever had. She allows herself a couple minutes to lay in bed, eyes closed, soaking up the sun that was coming in through her blinds already. 

Luckily her work clothes were just a polo and jeans, noting too boring and easy as hell to get into when she was running late. She gets dressed, grabs her things, locks up her house and heads to work. She does stop for coffee, grabbing one for Colin on her way in as well, she really loved her job. 

She walks in with a smile, even though she just wants to yawn and sit back down. It was insane how tired she felt. 

“You good?” Colin notices, headset on and already on the job, he takes the coffee from her with a smile, “you look… nice?” 

She laughs, rolling her eyes softly, “thanks, I’m just exhausted.” 

“Well, buckle in,” he pats her shoulder, pointing her towards her desk, “cause it’s back-to-back calls so far and it’s only 9 am.” 

And then she’s on the clock.

—

It had been 3 weeks since he met Y/N, they’ve had 3 real dates, a few movie hang-outs and gone through 1 ovulation cycle together. Let’s just say, he’s a lot happier than normal. No longer needing his cane, he has a pep in his step that everyone notices. 

They’ve bugged him every day since the first date. It’s been evident that something good happened to him for quite some time, but he doesn’t admit it until today. With Hotch, because he has a good feeling about things. 

They agreed that they wouldn’t write up a co-parenting agreement until there was a child to take custody of, that being because Spencer thought it was bad luck. Planning for the future was the one sure way to ensure that it didn’t happen to him, this was the most important thing to happen to him, so he wasn’t going to chance it. 

After a mountain of morning paperwork and no new cases, he climbs the stairs to Hotch’s office and peaks his head in the door. 

“Hotch, can I ask you something?”

“What’s up?” He looks up from his desk, concerned probably because Spencer doesn’t often come to ask him for help unless it’s bad.

Spencer closes the door behind himself, wandering into his office and sitting in a chair across from him with a sigh. “Do you know any good family lawyers in the area?”

The concern on his face grows, his big brown eyes narrow on him and his brows furrow, “I do.”

“Erm, well, I need to write up some co-parenting agreement papers,” he can’t meet Aaron’s eyes as he says it. “So I need someone who’s good, and I figured you’d know, given everything…”

“Oh?” He’s just as shocked as Spencer suspected he’d be. “I didn’t know you were even seeing anyone?”

“I'm not— not really, me and a friend both want a kid so we’re starting the process of having a baby together,” he explains it differently than how it happened, for his own sanity. If Derek knew he met this woman online and had sex with her a few hours later, he’d never hear the end of it.

“April Clarke, I’ll pass your number on to her, she’ll be able to help,” he smiles, “I’m really happy for you, congratulations.” 

“We’re not pregnant yet,” it’s weird to even say it, “but soon, I’ll need to use some of my vacation days on appointments and things, and apply for paternity leave eventually, and she wants to meet all of you as well.”

“They’re going to be shocked to hear that you have a female friend they don’t know yet,” Hotch smiles.

He sighs, smiling slightly and pushing his long hair behind his ear, “I know, why do you think I’ve kept it to myself for 3 weeks?” 

“Penelope would probably throw a party just to meet her if you told them,” he offers up the idea, “it’s been a while since we’ve had a gathering.” 

“We’ll see,” Spencer stands up, straightening out his shirt as he does so, “I’ll let you get back to your paperwork.”

“Okay, and don’t worry, I won’t say anything until you do,” he assures him. 

“Thanks,” he gives him a nod before opening the door and returning to his desk.

— 

It starts with a simple question. 

“911, what’s your emergency?”

Depending on her luck, sometimes the answer was simple too. A fender bender, a broken arm at a playground, or a possible drunk driver on the highway thanks to some slight swerving… it was the things that had a quick answer that she favoured. 

Every once in a while she’d get one that was nowhere near simple. 

“Hi…” the voice is quiet, barely there, but the breathing that follows is heavy. 

“Hello? Is someone there?” 

There’s a sniffle and a shaky breath, “yeah. I um…I just don’t know what to call my emergency?”

“Okay,” that confuses her, she immediately flags down the floor manager, Colin, to assist, “do you want to maybe tell me what you’re going through and I can see how I can help you?”

“okay.” 

“Alright, well, I’m Y/N, what’s your name?” 

“Paige,” she starts to warm up to her. 

“Okay Paige, what’s going on?” 

“My dad lives in the up part, he only comes down to give us things, I’ve never seen the up part, my mom went with him the other day and I haven’t seen her since. So I came to the up part, and I remembered on the tv they said to call 9-1-1 if something bad happened.” 

As she’s listening, Y/N dispatches everything possible to the home she’s calling from. “Is it just you home? Do you have any siblings?” 

“I have 3 sisters, they’re down in our house.”

“And how old are you all?” 

“I’m 14, Sarah is 12, Olivia is 8 and Violet is 6.” 

They’re all so young. Her heart is breaking. “Do you know who the police are?” 

“Yeah?”

“I’ve sent some of my most trusted police friends to come over and help you, they’re going to look for your mom and make sure you’re okay. They’re about 8 minutes away,” she explains as best as possible. 

“And my sisters?” 

“And your sisters,” she agrees, “do you know what your mom's real name is?”

“Uh…” there’s a long pause. “No, I don’t think she’s ever told us, but dad sometimes called her Tilly.”

“That’s a good start for me,” she manages to smile, adding as much information to the report as possible. “Now when the police get there, it might be a little scary, can you take the phone with you down to wait with your sisters? Or is it attached to a cord?”

“It has a long curly thing attached to the wall,” she explains, it can probably reach down the stairs?” 

“Try it, go as far as you can and wait on the steps for help to—

“Oh no, no no no—

“What’s going on Paige?” 

“He’s back.” And the phone hangs up just like that.

“Shit,” Y/N whispers to herself. The whole conversation she kept thinking, she's so close to the FBI, Spencer should go help her. 

So she pulls out her phone, calls the number and waits. 

“Are you okay?” Spencer answers after half a ring. 

“No, there was a girl who I believe is the product of a kidnapper and a victim, she called 911 and said he hurt her mother, the address is close to you,”

“Send it, we’re on our way,” Spencer says, and she can hear him getting ready to rush out the door, and voices asking what’s going on. “There’s a murder and possible abduction happening down the road, 4 kids need help.” 

“Thank you,” Y/N whispers through the phone, “call me back when they’re safe? She hung up on me when he got home again.” 

“How far out are the cops?” 

“4 minutes, I sent 224-L16 first, he’s the closest,” she uses her dispatcher talk with him, knowing he’d understand.

“Sargent LaMontagne?” 

“Yep, he’s my best patrol officer,” Y/N has no idea how Spencer knows him. 

“That’s Henry’s dad,” she can hear his smile, and more questions from his side of the phone, voices she’s never heard before but are probably connected to names and stories Spencer’s shared with her. “I gotta go, but I’ll call you later.”

“Okay,” she lets him go. Hanging up and watching the monitor light up with a new call. 

She takes a deep breath and starts all over again, “911, what’s your emergency?” 

—

His day is mostly boring after that. 2 cups of coffee, a chocolate donut with sprinkles, 30 minutes of nerd talk with Penelope… it was just the usual. 

They were all gathering their coats, the end of the shift was coming up and they risked it all. Normally a call came in if they tried to leave early, they didn’t think they’d get one today. 

“So, anyone wants to get drinks later?” JJ asks, “I can find a babysitter.”

“I’m down,” Derek agrees, laying his coat over his shoulder and putting on his sunglasses. 

“Same,” Emily agrees.

That’s when Spencer’s phone rings. He sees it’s Y/N and he fears the worst, she would call while he’s at work, she normally texts. Not even a second passes and he answers, “are you okay?” 

Everyone stops and stares at him, listening in to his conversation and witnessing all the colour leave his face. 

“Send it, we’re on our way,” Spencer announces, rushing to the door. 

They’re all so confused, following his lead but confused as hell, Derek calls for Hotch, and Rossi comes running out too. 

“There’s a murder and possible abduction and murder happening down the road, 4 kids need help,” Spencer announces, and they all spring into action. Running out the double glass doors to the elevator. 

Keys are exchanged, coats are on, Hotch calls Penelope and all the information is relayed between her and dispatch. 

Once he hangs up, his phone goes into his pocket and the elevator has almost reached the garage level, “two questions… who was that and how do they know my boyfriend?” JJ asks. 

“Oh, my friend Y/N works at 9-1-1,” he looks over at Hotch, “she dispatched Will, but his ETA wasn’t enough, and we’re close.” 

“So let’s boogie,” Rossi hands his keys to Derek, Hotch has the other pair, they load the two SUVs and off they go. 

Bulletproof vests are handed between each other, they prepare for the worst, hope for the best and pray they find these girls unharmed. 

They roll up to the driveway just behind Will, all of them getting out and discharging their weapons. 

With a hushed voice, Will points to the bushes, “Derek, Emily, I want you to sneak around back, Hotch, Rossi and I will go to the door, Spencer and Jayj, you go in once we take him down and secure the kids.” 

“On it,” Spencer agrees, sneaking with JJ around to the edges of the porch, getting another angle for a possible shootout.  

Will knocks, Hotch stands behind him with his hand on his gun, under his suit jacket. When the door opens, it’s immediately shut in their face. Will places his foot in front of it, stopping it from fully closing, he pushes through and grabs the man by the cuff of his shirt, “Curtis Patricks?” 

“Y-yeah?” 

“Paige called us, care to tell us where you keep them locked up?” 

They’re shocked to see Will so in control, so different from the last takedown they all did together. The only difference in him now: he’s a father now, himself. 

He gives in, caught and frail, in his late 50s and tired of hiding for so long. He sighs and his shoulders drop, “basement door, by the landline.” 

He’s cuffed quickly, JJ and Spencer rush in and find the girls in the basement, huddled together in the corner, with the eldest in front.

The room is basically empty. Cement floors, pink insulation trapped between beams and captured by plastic. No drywall, exposed electricity, old tree trunks in the ceiling show how old the house truly is, Patricks must’ve lived here since he was born, with no planning to have 4 children, the woman he captured once lived here by herself.  

“Who are you?” The eldest, Page, asks.

“Y/N sent us,” Spencer smiles at her. “Did she tell you people were coming?” 

She nods, “she did… have you found our mom yet?” 

“Not yet sweetie,” JJ smiles at them. “We have officers arriving who are going to figure this out and get you some answers, until then do you want to come with us to the hospital? We need to make sure you’re doing okay.” 

“In the up part?” One of the younger ones looks perplexed, “we can’t go there.” 

“You can now,” Spencer kneels down to her level, “you’re going to love it. The air is so fresh, the sky is beautiful, there are so many things to explore and do. You’re going to have fun, I promise.” 

The eldest sighs, “alright, come on guys. Mom would want us to be taken care of.” 

“What about daddy?” Another asks. 

“He’s going to the police station to give them some help with finding your mom,” JJ lies as best as she can. “Come on, let’s go upstairs.” 

The oldest one lets her siblings go first, they go up the stairs slowly with JJ behind them, Spencer just looks at her, “did you want to talk to Y/N again?”  

“Please?” 

“Come on,” Spencer places his hand on her shoulder and escorts her upstairs. He digs his phone from his pocket and calls Y/N as soon as he has service above ground again.

“Spencer, oh my god, are they safe? Did you get there in time?” 

“I did,” he smiles, watching Paige light up as she hears Y/N’s voice too. “Someone wants to talk to you.” 

“Y/N?” Paige grips the phone with two hands and holds it to her ear.

“Paige, I’m so happy to hear your voice,” she lets out a deep sigh, “you’re in good hands with Spencer, he’s probably going to have lots of questions for you soon and I promise, he’s a person you can trust.” 

“Can you be there when he asks them?” Paige looks up at Spencer, listening in to every word, he nods, “Spencer says it’s okay.” 

“I get off work soon, I’ll come right to Quantico,” she agrees. “Is there anything you need? Clean clothes or snacks for you and your sisters?” 

“Um… I’m not sure yet?” 

“They’re good for now,” Spencer answers for her, and Paige hands him the phone, “we’re going to the hospital actually, I’ll text you which one.” 

“Okay, get there safely, I’ll see you soon,” she smiles on the other end, he could hear her cheeks. 

“Bye,” he smiles back before hanging up. 

“Is she your wife?” 

He laughs, turning pink, “no, no, she’s not. Erm, let’s go find your sisters. You get to ride in an ambulance today.” 

When she gets in the ambulance, she embraces her sisters. Holding them close and telling them it was all going to be okay, they’d find their mom, they’d be safe, their dad can’t bother them anymore. He shuts the doors, assuring them that he’d meet them there with a smile, now it was his turn to answer questions. 

“Who was she?” Derek asks, chin lifting and pointing towards him, he smirks. 

“A new friend of mine.” 

“Girlfriend?” 

“No.”

“But you’re sleeping together?” 

Of course, he knows. 

“We are.” 

“Spence,” he shoves him in the shoulder, “I wanna know all about her.”

“You’re just in luck,” he pats Derek’s back and heads to the passenger seat of the SUV, “she’ll meet us at the hospital.” 

—

He warned her. 

In the 3 weeks, she’s known him, he’s told her many a time that his friends were heavily invested in his love life. Looking at him like a younger brother bringing a girl home for the first time, they were happy for him. That didn’t stop them from teasing him, however. 

She hugs him as soon as she sees him. That’s the first tell that they’re more than friends. They linger, holding each other tightly while whispering sweet welcomes. His hand stays on her lower back as she turns to his friends, “hi, it’s so nice to meet you all.” 

“It’s nice to know you’re real,” Emily smiles, reaching out her hand. “Emily, we’ve all been dying to know who’s made Spence so happy lately.” 

“It’s nice to finally put faces to all the names in his stories,” she smiles back, not surprised he’s been so cheery… especially after how lonely he said he was before her. 

She gets all of their names, they exchange small talk and they all ring true to the personalities Spencer has described. Derek is confident, he stands tall with a softness that makes him not only trustworthy but safe. Emily is just as witty, bubbly and sweet as ever, she can tell why Spencer describes her as a sister. 

Hotch is stoic, smiling softly like he knows more than he’s letting off and keeping to himself. JJ catches on to that, cuddling up to her boyfriend and smirking. She looks back and forth between Y/N and Spencer and nods to herself, approving in her own way. 

“Do you mind if I have a word with Y/N?” Hotch asks. 

“Yeah,” she answers for herself, leaving Spencer's side and following him down a corridor. 

“We found the mother's body,” is how he leads with it. She had a feeling that was going to be the outcome. “A social worker is on the way for the girls, they’re working on reaching out to Tilly’s family to see if they can be reunited.” 

“That’s wonderful, they deserve to have a good support system,” she agrees. 

“The only issue is figuring out who should tell them. The doctors wanted the social workers to do it because they’re trained to handle the grief, however, you are the first person Paige has come to trust in the real world, and I think she’d find the most comfort hearing it from you.” 

She tears up almost instantly, “no, no I can’t tell them that they’ve lost their mother. I… no?” 

“You’re completely allowed to back out, thats why I asked you alone,” Hotch smiles softly, “I didn’t want you to say yes just to please everyone.” 

She wipes her eyes quickly, shaking her head, “I would, but if I get this involved with 1 case, I’m going to want to follow up with all of my calls, and that wouldn’t be healthy.” 

“I completely understand,” he places a hand on her shoulder to assure her, looking into her eyes softly, he was just as Fatherly as Spencer described. “And can I just say, you made a great choice with Spencer, I hope everything works out.” 

“Thank you,” she smiles, “I do too…”

His hand stays on her arm, leading her back to where they were and she immediately returns to Spencer's side. Everyone else has left, it would seem, Spencer was the only one still there in that same corridor that she left them. Slightly upset still, wanting his embrace, she puts her arm around his waist and holds him in a half hug. 

“You okay?” He whispers into her hair, kissing the top of her head before pulling away. 

She nods, “just extremely tired… and I’ve cried like 6 times today. It’s fine, I just can’t wait to go home.” 

“They’re going out for drinks, we’ve been invited, but I’m not sure if you should have a drink…” he smirks. “Should we go home and take a test?” 

Her attention snaps right to him, her eyes grow 10 sizes, “you think?” 

He nods, smirking still, “let’s go.” 

—

It’s the longest 3 minutes of his life. Sitting on the edge of the bathtub beside his … he didn’t even really know what to call her. But they sat there, holding hands, waiting for the timer to ding before they look at the tests. They bought so many, planning on doing two tonight and more in the morning when she had better chances of testing positive, he couldn’t wait. 

This was the most nerve-racking and exciting moment of his entire life. 

The little egg timer buzzes, moving on the final countertop and bumping into the ceramic sink, making a terrible sound. Spencer grabs it quickly and as he does, he sees the two pink lines. 

He gasps, dropping the egg timer to the floor and covering his mouth. 

“No fucking way?!” She grabs both tests and holds them up, examining the fine pink line that would change their lives forever. 

“You’re pregnant,” Spencer whispered, pulling her into a hug, not caring that the two pee sticks were now touching the back of his shirt as they held each other. 

“We’re going to have a baby,” she cries, overjoyed, hormonal and beyond thankful. 

She pulls back enough to look at him, he stares into her glossy eyes, so incredibly enamoured by her, he wasn’t sure if it was this moment or all the others they’ve shared so far, catching up to him. All he knew was that he felt something for her that he’s never felt for another human being. A love that reached beyond anything he could label, she wasn’t just someone he wanted to have a baby with, she wasn’t just someone he could see spending the rest of his life with him, she was so much more. She’s everything to him. 

They both go in for a kiss at the same time, breathing each other in deeply, he soaks in all the affection he can get from her.

Permanent tag list 

@goldensonlyangel @doctorspenceryeet @samuel-de-champagne-problems @reiding-recs @shemarmooresfedora @manuosorioh @mochionly @jswessie187 @k-k0129 @blanchardsbk @measure-in-pain @dreams-in-blxck @doc-padfoot @nomajdetective @xoxospencerreid @mggswhorificlover @dinonuggets1967 @meganskane @kya-li @reidsbookclub @muffin-cup @one-sweet-gubler @shirleyrose @reidsacademia @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm @spooky-goob @strawberryspence @thatsonezesty13 @lonewolf471 @a-mended-pact @ssa-uglywhore27 @hotchandspencearedilfs @venomsvl 

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#spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid request #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n

[myohmyimanxious]

TOH HEADCANONS

- Alador wasn't present for any of his children's births. Not bc he didn't want to be, but bc odalia wouldn't allow him time of work to do so

- He was so happy to see amity grow up looking more like him with the brown hair and similar traits

- He wishes he put up more of a fight against odalia for how she treated their kids, and feels guilty about not being more present and standing up for them

- Eda and Raine were the worst people to put together, bc they caused C H A O S during their hexside days

- Sometimes Lilith, Darius, Alador and Perry would also join in, but it was mostly Eda and Rainey

- They have a Look™️ which means LETS CAUSE TROUBLE ON PURPOSE

- It's part of the reason Darius sought out Raine for the rebellion and knowledge

- Darius and Raine and Eberwolf always played pranks of Adrian Graye but never got caught. Adrian found it infuriating

- Darius takes Hunter in after everything goes down

- Eberwolf lives next door and likes to cause chaos and wrangles hunter into doing it too much to Darius's dismay

- Mud baths are a staple. But hunter and eber have to be hosed down before being allowed back into the house

- Hunter begged for Darius to tell him about his predecessor after the dust settled. It took Darius a while to do so but he did eventually

- Lilith will not hesitate to punch anyone who disrespects hooty

- They're ride or die pals forever and always

- Hooty still kinda freaks Raine out even after all this time

- Hunter and Amity have a secret pact that is basically if one of them needs the other for any kind of fight they come no questions asked

- They also go to each other when talking about childhood trauma

- Luz and Gus bond over losing a parent

- They first do so in the human realm when Gus asks about her dad

- Gus's mum died when he was like 5 or 6 so he doesn't remember her very well other than that she was ill for most of his childhood

- Gus has no idea how strong he is

- He was arm wrestling amity and accidentally hurt her arm bc he was so into it

- The hexsquad don't get it when Luz calls him Lennie after that, and she won't elaborate

- Willow gives people specific plants to certain people as gifts

- For example, Gus gets one that symbolisies friendship, amity gets one symbolising strength, Luz gets one symbolising honour, and hunter gets one symbolising love

- The way the others had to hold back tears when she gave them out made her cry as well

- Hunter is terrible at sharing unless it's with Gus or Willow

- Eda will bite you if you try and take food from her plate

- Raine tried once, they never tried afterwords tho

- Lilith and hooty go off on little adventures every now and then

- King and Luz always refer to each other as brother and sister, even in the human realm

- King is also very clingy over Luz and Eda now (more so than before)

- I like to think that if the collector is tamed and looked after they get to be a real kid, who doesn't cause chaos for the sake of it

- I also like to think that the collector and hunter would be close almost like a sibling relationship but not quite?

- Like the collector is like MY GRIMWALKER HE IS THE ONLY ONE WHO UNDERSTANDS ME and hunter is like this is my star child who I can't get rid of

- Initially, bc of this, the collector is clingy with hunter and somewhat jealous of his other friends but soon grows used to it

- Hunter is basically their parent but also sibling? Like I say it's an odd dynamic

- King and the collector often hang but it's a little awkward at first

- Lilith and Raine actually get along really well once they properly get to know each other, tho they don't hang out much

- When the do they just embarrass Eda

- Luz is still very much an outcast at school when she returns to the human realm but it doesn't bother her in the same way as it did before

- She's a lot harder now so stands up for herself and others more as a result of her time in the Boiling Isles

#the owl house #toh #luz noceda #the golden guard #eda the owl lady #edalyn clawthorne #hunter the owl house #amity blight #the king of demons #gus porter #raine whispers #lumity #eda clawthorne #lilith clawthorne #king the owl house #the owl house hunter #willow park #alador blight #darius deamonne #eberwolf the huntsman #odalia blight #hooty the owl house #the owl house headcanons #toh headcanons

[bobbinalong]

How old is Allie when she finds out her parents and all their friends are superheroes? Also who's her favorite superhero growing up/ before and after she finds out

I'm of two minds about this, because on one head, I want her running around the Batcave as soon as she can run and on the other hand, I know that Bruce would kill both Tim and Steph if they let her into the Cave or around any of his computers -- she definitely stays at the Clocktower a few times when she's very small, but that probably stops when she gets old enough to remember stuff.

No, realistically, Steph and Tim would probably keep all of this stuff as far away from her as possible so she can grow up without a worry in the world. Damian would probably think this silly when he first comes to Gotham, so there's a few close calls with him, but he'd get behind it eventually. Just takes him a minute.

As far as vigilante and supervillain stuff goes, I don't think Allie would even know what's up with her maternal grandfather, other than him being bad news, until he attempts to make a comeback or something and she's like: Ifeel like I've seen that guy before? Somewhere? and they have to explain it. Maybe he comes back for a bit to take over the Brown's house (like he does in the comics) when Allie's little, but Dinah kicks him and his ilk out and he doesn't cause trouble for them again for a while.

Allie's a smart kid, though, and she's definitely inherited Steph's propensity for getting into stuff she should not be getting into, so it's definitely just a matter of time until she figures things out. I'm thinking maybe early teens, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, and she's outraged, and she's excited and Tim might be semi-retired by the time she finds everything out, but her parents have still been working with the literal Batman since before she was born and literally what is going on. Bruce Wayne is Batman. Bruce Wayne. Nothing makes sense anymore.

Arguments ensue over if she can and should become a superhero herself, but that's for a different place, lol.

I think growing up Batgirl/Orphan/Black Bat/whatever name Cass goes by when Allie's a teen is her favourite hero. And specifically Cass!Batgirl, not that blonde imposter who shows up around the time Uncle Damian arrives in Gotham (which doesn't hurt Steph one bit, not at all, why would you ask).

After discovering everybody she knows is a vigilante, it's suddenly embarassing to pick a favourite, but it probably stays Cass. (Also, Aunt Cass would be half-way through outfitting her in an old Batgirl suit before remembering to ask if her parents are actually cool with this, which also gains her favourite points. She's waited for this day. She can't wait to show her how to punch even harder.)

She'd also find out about Oracle, who she might not know about as your average teenage civillian, and she'd think she's so freaking cool (if a little bit scary). LIke, Babs was cool before, but this is just on a whole other level.

#dc #bobbinasks #steph keeps the kid au #oc allie brown #batfam #she's also fond of both superboys which kon and jon never fail to rub under their respective robin's noses #especially kon #bc tim's robin/red robin/etc doesn't even show up in allie's discussions of cool heroes #anyway im fond of the idea of vigilante fam timsteph+allie so like. maybe i will give her a suit some day #call her. sparrow i think i said last time #sparrow'd be cute